


When There Can Be No Surrender

by Embli



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ADHD, Angst, Bisexuality, Canonical Child Abuse, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pack, Panic Attacks, This gets pretty dark, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:05:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embli/pseuds/Embli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles decided the situation was desperate enough for time travel, he only meant to change four days. Instead he gets kicked back to 2011 and his sixteen-year-old body. Not so great, especially when one wrong move can break apart the timeline and let the universe swallow them whole.</p><p>Stiles didn't ask for any of this. He never did. He just wanted to keep the pack safe. But - as always - safe is a train long past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog

**Author's Note:**

> I have some chapters written but can't be sure how often I'll post. I'd love to have a regular posting schedule and the ability to keep it, but for now I don't dare to make promises.
> 
> Betad by Omnomnomnivore. Remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> And, of course, I do not own Teen Wolf. Not even a little bit.

It was a stupid idea. But hey, desperate times. Stiles doesn't throw himself into danger just for shit and giggles - as he has repetadly told Derek. Sometimes he has to go with the _least_ bad plan. Or act with no time to make any plan at all. This idea has been on the back-burner for a while, but he has never considered it seriously, because it's a whole new level of stupid.

Traveling back in time to try to stop something from happening. He has wanted to do it since forever. Get his mom to the hospital earlier. Kill every evil thing before it could hurt his pack and innocents around them. Get Scott back. So he has day-dreams where his magic works like in a children's story, where he waves a wand around and just _fixes everything._

But real life doesn't work that way. Stiles knew that long before Deaton started teaching him stuff. That was the one rule in every single book and movie about time travel he had ever read or watched: if you fuck with time, you will probably fuck everything up. In a movie the protagonist would find a way to make it better by the end. Stiles and the pack has pulled plenty of last minute solutions. They have managed to get themselves out of all sorts of trouble.

But not every problem. And not everyone.

Stiles will never forgive Scott for pulling a heroic sacrifice.

He has to hate Scott, because if he didn't, too much of the blame would fall on his own shoulders and he'd crash. Stiles might be traumatized to the moon and back, but at least he's functional.

"This is a stupid idea," he mutters to himself. There is noone else there. Of course there isn't. Not when he wants, _needs_ them to stop him. To take his stupid chalks and say that the whole entire world full of innocent people is more important than the lives of the pack. That they won't win if they set of a paradox, they'll just be dead in a different way - or not even born.

But they wouldn't say that. Most of the pack doesn't know much about time travel (Stiles might have tried to keep it that way; no need to tempt them as well) and the ones who'd realize what he's risking... they care as much as he does. They would take any crazy risk. They are desperate and too morally gray to put billions of strangers above family. Have been fighting too long to give up, even when they should.

Stiles takes several deep breaths. He is on his knees and shaking, but once he puts the chalk to the ground his hands are steady. It's been years since he failed to draw a symbol when lives were on the line. Well, outside of his nightmares.

"Love you, Derek," he says. It's possible his mate is close enough to hear him. It's also possible Derek is dead. But it doesn't _matter_ if he is, not really, because Stiles is going to change all of it.

Well. Not all of it. He _wants_ to go back to his childhood, far before everything started breaking around him. But there is stupidity and then there is stupididty. Stiles has limits.

He's going back four days. He'll catch the Lamia just as she enters town. He has no idea how he will actually take her down, but he'll figure it out. Stiles is great at improvising. He wishes he could come up with a better solution for this clusterfuck, but - desperation.

One of the girls scream outside of the room. It might be Claire, who's only eighteen and seems so much younger than he was at that age. He's been teaching her how to control her magic for almost a year. Stiles doesn't turn.

Gunshots. Dad, probably. Maybe Arkady, who can't shift with the poison in his veins. But it might not be awesome to give the half delirious guy a gun.

Stiles keeps drawing. The noise from outside seems more and more distant, as if he's hearing it from under water. He doesn't have to think about the symbols at all anymore, with hands moving of their own accord. The spell has him now and it won't let go. It used to terrify him, but now it's comforting. He's settling into his own little bubble, where he doesn't have to think too much. Either he will succeed or the Lamia will get him. He can't do anything more than he already has. This is the ultimate reckless plan.

 _"Stiles!"_ Derek's voice breaks through the trance. Stiles looks up, but it's the Lamia before him. She smirks and says, sounding just like Derek: "Playing with time, Spark? What makes you think a little trick like that could defeat someone who's been around for centuries?"

Stiles stares at her. She has blood all over her clothes but doesn't seem injured and she's using Derek's voice. Like she has already...

The chalk falters and slips.

For a moment he thinks it's over. The Lamia seems to agree with him, widening her smile and taking a step forward. Then the magic grabs him and tears his soul from his body, before he can even scream at the pain. Sending him back.


	2. Back Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up, but not when he expected to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is partly inspired by some early scenes in Play It Again by metisket.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/862320

It takes a while for Stiles to realize that something has gone wrong. At first he's not aware of anything but the pain. The rest comes back slowly. First is the knowledge that his eyes are open but he can't see anything but white. Then comes the feeling of each body part, of lying down on something. Of someone speaking near him. Someone who's afraid. Slowly, the worst of the agony ebbs away. His eyes clear up and he can see again. He's on a bed and Dad is crouching on the floor next to him, looking panicked.

All at once, he remembers the plan. He looks around, but this isn't the hotel room it should be. It is, in fact, his own teenage bedroom. In a house that shouldn't exist anymore. In Beacon Hills. Which he left years ago. Fuck. He _knew_ it was stupid to mess with time.

"The ambulance is on it's way," Dad promises, just as Stiles tunes in to what he's saying. Wonderful. So Stiles has been screaming and freaking Dad out for long enough that he thinks it's much more than a nightmare. His throat is really sore, now that the rest of the pain is decreasing. And Dad calling a hospital rather than Deaton and the pack is a bad sign. It means he doesn't know yet. Why did Stiles wait so long to tell him? When is he?

"That's it, that's it," Dad mumbles, clueing in on him being more calm and aware of his surroundings. And Stiles is fairly steady, actually. Calmer than he _should_ be. A sort of composure that means he will have at least one panic attack later, but that his brain has decided to deal with shit first. It's been conditioned into him, really. If he breaks down before he's sure it safe to do so, he could get everybody killed.

He should probably say something to Dad. Reasure him that Stiles doesn't have a brain tumor or something. That it's just an itty bitty soul from the future replacment deal. Nothing to worry about at all.

"Don' need 'ospital," he croakes, probably not very convincingly. Dad just pets his arm awkwardly. And oh look, there's the sirens in the distance. Awesome. 

 

 

Stiles is rushed to the hospital. In the ambulance he manages to freak Dad out by guessing the wrong answer to the question "What year is it?" and making his claim that it was just a panic attack much less credible.

He wonders what time it is, other than night. Maybe Melissa is working. If Dad doesn't know about werewolves, she's still alive. And Scott, too. It seems Stiles got a lot of the things he wanted after all. Now he just has to figure out what kind of terrible price he has to pay.

The doctors check his heart and brain and white cell count and whatever else they're doing. Stiles doesn't really pay attention. He has too many other things to think about. It's aparently not 2012. That makes it 2011 at the latest, because otherwise Dad would know about wolves and magic.

2011 was the year it all began. When Scott got bitten. Holy shit, what if that hasn't happend yet? What if Stiles can... kill Peter, or something, and _actually_ fix everything? He's not supposed to make big changes to the timeline and that would most definitly qualify. But he can't just sit around and watch stuff go to shit either. 

"We'd like to keep you overnight," one of the doctors say when the light outside the window suggest it's almost morning either way. Dad nods. Stiles is annoyed. Not surpised, but annoyed. Civilians. They don't understand that Stiles has better things to do. Like find Deaton and try to figure out how they can safely handle this mess.

Well. The safest way Stiles can agree to, anyway. Deaton is going to argue for the change-nothing-at-all route of absolute misery, Stiles just knows it. 

"I'm really okay, Dad," he says, possibly for the hundredth time. "The doctors haven't found anything wrong, right? And they won't. Because I'm _fine."_ Dad just holds his hand, like he used to hold Mom's, and tries to smile. Like he wants to reassure Stiles and not the other way around. And sure, if Stiles really did have some freaky mystery desease, he might appreciate that. 

He will have to tell Dad the truth, this time. Not all of it. The stuff-is-real, probably. The I'm-from-the-future bit is dangerous and it might be good to let as few people as possible in on that. As in, only Deaton. Possibly Laura Hale, so she doesn't try to take revenge if he kills her poor, defensless uncle. Assuming he is that early. Maybe Laura is dead and Scott is bitten and everyone that knows Peter is awake will just congratulate Stiles on killing the bastard. Or tricking the Alpha Pack. Or whatever he can do, depending on when he is.

What if it's really early? Like 2009 or something. What will he do then, just go about like a normal kid who doesn't know anything about the supernatural and wait? His body doesn't look like it could be younger than maybe fifteen but it's hard to tell.

Noone has told him what the right answer to the year question is. Perhaps they don't want to upset him. He wishes he could figure it out, mostly so he could plan, but also because having it right next time they ask would be really helpful on the seem-perfectly-fine front.

It's probably 2011. He sent himself here with magic, while thinking about the pack. Why would he end up before all that even began? But that's trying to apply logic to magic. After all these years, Stiles still does that. Knowing that magic doesn't like logic at all. That it, in fact, does stuff like it was deliberatly trying to piss logic off.

"Hey, can I have my phone? I wanna text Scott."

"He'll be asleep, Stiles."

"Well, yeah. But he'll wonder why I'm not at school if I don't say anything. And I'd like to go back to sleep, so I won't be able to tell him later."

He really is freaking tired. When he came from he had been going on two hours of sleep a night since the Lamia started hunting them. The adrenaline and sugar tablets kept him up, then. Now he doesn't have that, just needlessly worried people to entertain and headache inducingly difficult plans to make. Stiles needs sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

"I'll ask the nurses."

Does he think Stiles needs medical permission to send a text? Or it could be about the not being conscious part. Please, don't let it be that.

Dad doesn't look like he want to let Stiles out of his sight, but he does get up and out of the room. Stiles ends up getting his phone (apparently Dad grabbed it to make the 911 call, or it would still be at home) which he uses to both sneakily find out that it is, indeed, 2011 and to send the promised message. And suddenly he has to blink away tears. He's texting Scott. He can read some random but pree-wolf conversation sixteen-year-old Stiles and Scott had. He checked the date, knows exactly when he is now. He could start making detailed plans. Or sleep first and then start on the miracle working. But - Scott. Young, innocent Scott. His best friend who he hasn't talked to in over five years. Who is _dead._

Stiles calls him. He doesn't care that it's 04:50 in the morning and Dad is glaring at him. He has to hear Scott's voice. 

The signal goes through for what seems like an enternity.

"Waa?"

"Scott?" His voice is shaking.

"S'iles? Why are you calli- it's _too early."_ Scott sounds like he's about to fall back asleep. Stiles heart is breaking into a thousand pieces.

"I know, buddy. I just wanted you to know that you're really, _really_ important to me. Don't - don't ever forget that, okay?" And now he's crying. Dad looks worried again. "You're my best friend, Scott."

"Are you okay?" Scott seems much more awake now.

"Yeah. I'm perfect."

He's _going_ to make it work.


	3. The First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes a battle plan.

A day later Stiles has slept delicious long hours and the doctors are still waiting for some test-results but they agree he can go home. Dad isn't particularly enthusiastic and takes time off work to stay at home with him. Having Dad hanging over his shoulder and constantly offering him food makes Stiles' planning a bit more difficult, but screw it. When was the last time he hung out with Dad without both of them being in crisis protect-the-pack mode? The last few years haven't been easy, is what Stiles is saying.

When the school day ends Scott comes over. Alive and human and stupidly young. He pretends not to be worried about Stiles' mystery hospital visit, and probably is by far the least worked up person (minus Stiles himself, except he's freaking out over other things) because he's sixteen and hasn't had constant mortal peril thrown at him yet. He knows people die, like Stiles Mom did, but subconsciously he think they're imortal. Teenagers.

They play Halo and talk about stupid stuff, and if Scott notices Stiles is actually several years older and a lot more broken than when Scott saw him last, he doesn't say anything.

"Coach made Greenberg run until he actual started crying," Scott reports, and Stiles laughs. Partly because Stiles is a cruel person. He has never tried to pretend that he's not, and recent years have made it worse. But mostly it's because he's _so happy_ to have Scott back and everything seems wonderful.

"I'm glad I wasn't there," he says. "At least you have your asthma. He can't make you do shit like that. Me, I'd still be out there running." Interestingly enough he might actually be good at lacross now. He's a lot more fit. Or he was, before he got back into this body. Wonder how much things carry over and if he has to relearn all the musle memory things.

"I'm going to make first line this year," Scott insists. And no, Scott. You aren't. You are going to remain human forever. Or maybe get bit by Laura, if he wants to. Stiles might prefer if he was a werewolf again, actually. Both because it's weird having him without his wolfiness and because human Scott is scary fragile.

"Sure you are," Stiles replies with as much sarcasm as he can muster. And that's a lot. Sarcasm is Stiles first language. Screw English and Polish, irony is his calling. His home, his heart, his sheild, his... Scott is still talking. Right.

 

 

After Scott has left and Dad is making dinner (and Stiles has aproved all his choices, health-wise. Dad might never have had a heart-attack in Stiles future but it may well be because of his low-carb diet) Stiles sits down and makes a plan. As in, actually writes things down on a piece of paper that he will absolutely burn later.

He knows because of the date that Peter is still in the hospital and hasn't killed anyone yet. Stiles doesn't know if he's still catatonic or just pretending. Derek and Laura are in New York. The twins have been recruited by the Alpha pack. Cora is... somewhere in South America maybe? She always gave different answers when asked where the hell she had been between the fire and her surpise return. Isaac is being tortued by his father, and that needs to stop. Erika is miserable and in love with Stiles, which is just weird. He's not sure how he could help her. They where never pack, both she and Boyd died too early for Stiles to really get to know them. Maybe he can change that, now.

He stops writing and crumples the paper. There are a million reasons why he never went for this plan before. Why smart people wouldn't touch time travel with a ten foot pole. He could, for real, destroy this entire timeline, _end this world_ , if he makes too many mistakes. It's easy to forget here. When he has Scott and lives with Dad in their old house and everything seems safe.

On the new list he writes:

_1\. Talk to Deaton!!!_

_2\. Figure out what to do with Peter. If I try to stop him in any way, probably contact Laura. Is this too dangerous?_

_3\. If at all possible, save Isaac._

_4\. Keep an eye at any and all Argents once they arrive._

That's a short, managable list. He'll talk to Deaton. Maybe give him some kind of veto power. Having the impulsive ADHD guy make all the stability risking decisions might not be a good idea.

 

 

Two days later is a Saturday. Dad is back at work. Scott is having a day off and Deaton is at the clinic. Stiles could contact him at home, but Deaton doesn't know him yet. He's probably going to be mad enough about this strange kid who was idiotic enough to timetravel without said kid invading his home.

So Stiles drives his Jeep over. It feels good to be back in it again. He feels more at home than in the house, in a way, because the house seems vaguely unreal. He hasn't driven his baby in ages, though, hasn't been able to stick to a single vehicle. Either it was demolished by some supernatural thing or they had to switch cars to make themselves harder to track. It's good to have the Jeep back. He has so many fond memories of it, even if some of them where decidely not happy experiences at the time. Ah, nostalgia. He gives the dashboard a pat after he is parked outside of the vet's.

The bell chimes above his head when he enters. There's a woman, she has a small travel cage presumably containing an animal of some sort, and she's paying Deaton. Deaton, who smiles at Stiles and then goes back to his client. Stiles thinks about sitting down, but he has too much energy and it will be his turn soon. As if on cue, the woman is done and Deaton smiles at him again.

"What can I help you with?"

He thinks Stiles is a customer. That he has a pet waiting outside in the car, perhaps. Or nervous questions about kittens to ask. Or something.

"I'm Stiles, Scott's best friend." It seems like a safe place to start.

"Ah. Is this about Scott, then?"

"No. Well, yes. It's about a lot of things." He really should have put some planning into this bit. Stiles is quiet for an awkwardly long time, trying to come up with the right words. Deaton just blinks at him and says absolutly nothing to help. "So, it's like this," Stiles finally continues. "I'm a Spark. You taught me magic. In the future. Where I'm from."

Deaton blinks.

"Ah," he says again, with a different intonation. He frowns. "I assume you are aware of the dangers."

"Really aware, yes. That's party why I'm here. To discuss what I can do without, you know, screwing everything up."

Blink. Crypic smile. Oh, good. Deaton doesn't seem to hate him.

"Well, then," he says. "You had better come in."


	4. Telling Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a long talk with Deaton.

"You say I taught you magic," Deaton says over the exam table. "Then I assume you come from at least a year in the future." He doesn't look disaproving, but Stiles assumes that he is. The further back you travel, the more dangerous it becomes.

"More like nine years," Stiles admits with a grimace.

"And you had a reason for this?"

"I had a reason to travel back _four days_ , which is what I tried to do. I was distraced in the middle of the spell."

"Hm."

"Some pretty big stuff happens."

"I would imagine so, for you to turn to something so drastic."

"Not just then. Now, already."

"And you want to change this."

"As much as I can. Safely." And that's basically nothing. He _knows_ that. Changing something, like Scott becoming a werewolf, would affect every single thing Scott and the rest of them did afterwards. Safe is a train that's passed. At this point, it wouldn't even be safe to try to retrace all the steps exactly as before. And Stiles refuses to even try that. It was too painful the first time. Too unfair.

Somehow, Stiles feels like if he fails and this world dies, it's not that big a deal. Because if that happens, then his pack will already have lost. They're the center of his universe. He's a selfish bastard, it's hard to care about all the other people who happen to live here. Hard not to think that versions of them exist in other realities anyway, so why can't Stiles just focus on the ones important to him? Why can't he try to make a perfect world for them, now that he's here? Now that he has already taken the risk of coming? It's stupid, but it feels like he could take all those other risks because he has nothing to lose.

He doesn't say any of that to Deaton. It might not help with the first impression, and he really wants Deaton to see him as a responsible person who can totally do all the things.

"Tell me about your timeline," Deaton says. And that hurts, unexpectedly. Because he's in a different timeline. He made it different, by coming back. Taking away four days and making them play out differently is one thing, but _nine years_.

He can't live out those years and end up in the same place. Not just minus the horrible bits, but the good ones too. Scott might not die. But they might never meet Arkady. They might get rid of Kate fucking Argent. But Claire and Suzie might get killed if Lydia isn't there to save them. Stiles might never be possessed. But Derek may never love him.

Derek might never become his mate.

Derek might never lose Laura.

"I'm part of the Hale pack," he says, instead of starting at the begining. He sees Deatons eyebrows go up. "Derek Hale is my Alpha. I will do anything to protect him and the others. That's why I'm here."

Deaton doesn't know him. Hasn't seen Stiles do all the crazy things he's done - will do? was going to do? - to keep them safe. But he knows packs. Knows about how loyal they are, or should be, to each other. He nods, slowly, like they have some sort of understanding. He was just told his reality is in the hands of a Spark with some not-necessarily-sane priorites and he just... accepts it. Oh, Deaton is absolutly going to argue with him every step of the way if he feels it's needed, but he isn't yelling at Stiles or having an existential crisis.

"Lets start with Peter Hale," Stiles decides. Because that's where it all starts, really. Unless you go back to the fire, but there is nothing that can be done to stop _that_. Stiles is really freaking relieved he doesn't have that power, actually. He would never have dared to do it, and if he had been given that chance and refused it... Derek might never have known, but Stiles would. Would know how he had let them be killed, betrayed Derek like Kate did.

"What about him?" Deaton asks, bringing him back to the present.

"He's an _asshole_ ," Stiles can't resist begining. Deaton actually smiles.

"I'm assuming he returnes to a more aware state, then."

"Yeah. And pretty much the first thing he does is start killing people. Among them Laura. As in, he deliberately lures her here and murders her to become the Alpha."

 

Stiles talks and talks until he almost loses his voice, and that's saying something. Deaton listens and frowns and asks some clarifying questions. Around the time they come to Scott's death he gets up, closes the shop and makes Stiles a cup of tea that probably has more than chamomile in it.

When they reach the Lamia and Stiles' time traveling spell, he's exhausted. Deaton seems to sense it and shoos him out the door. They can get to the actual planing another day. According to Stiles calculations they still have some time. For now Deaton basically tells him to go home and make as few waves as possible.

"Where have you been?" Dad asks as soon as he steps over the threshold. They're still waiting on some of Stiles' test results and even when they come back clear it will probably be a while before he calms down. This is pre-wolf Dad, who is not at all used to the freaky stuff that took over their lives. He is a normal guy who once lost his wife to a disease and his only son has resently had an unexplained episode of some sort. A son who has had panic attacks before, but those looked very different. After a while, he will probably accept it as one anyway. And then worry about what caused it and whether Stiles is depressed. Unless Stiles tells him some of the truth and explain it as a spell gone wrong, but that won't exactly make Dad feel better.

"You know the animal clinic where Scott works? I helped out there for a few hours. Dr Deaton is really cool." When he was sixteen the first time, he would have lied. Probably claimed to have spent the day with Scott. But that is an amature move. He hasn't collaborated the excuse with Scott and Dad might already have checked with Melissa. Telling the truth about being at the clinic is better, when Deaton will back him up should it ever be necessary. Stiles is going to be spending a lot of time with Deaton, it's good to establish his existence in Dad's mind right away.

"I'm thinking about starting to work there, too. I could start paying for gas myself, or just save up for college." That's a nice, responsible thing to say. Dad looks like he can't decide whether to be suspious or proud. Then he smiles. He probably thinks this is one of Stiles' million ideas that he will go all in for a short while and then drop and forget about.

"That's good, son. But don't drive until we get the all clear from the hospital."

"I'm going back to school on Monday, you know. And _no_ , I'm absolutly not going in the cruiser."

"Then you can get up early and walk, ride your bike or take the bus."

His Dad has no heart.

Weirdly, Stiles is almost enjoying him in the role of the stern parent. If Dad demanded his car keys, he'd probably just hand them over. And then steal them back in case he needs the car in an emergency. But the point still stands. In the future, Stiles is second in command of the pack. Technically Dad's superior. They even had a talk where Dad used those exact words. Said that while Stiles will always be Dad's son, pack busniess was Stiles territory. His area of expertise. He was the reseach master and the magician and the strategist. If Stiles gave an order, Dad followed it. Sometimes it felt really weird for both of them, but they worked it out. It was practical. Necessary. And it was nice to know Dad respected him so much. But this Dad, who doesn't know anything about it - doesn't know what kind of power Stiles has and what he has done and been responsible for - he still talks about Stiles car priviliges.

"But _Daaaad_ ," Stiles whines, keeping the smile internal, and dramaticaly storms up to his room.

It will probably get annoying pretty fast, though. Stiles is an adult and a very competent one. Dad doesn't know that, and it's not his fault, but being treated like a sixteen-year-old by everyone around him is bound to get old. At least he'll have Deaton, who a) knows the truth, and b) never treated any of them as children in the first place.

Even when they where. Children. Even when they should never have had to deal with the things they did. But then, that's life. Bad things happen and you have to grow up quickly. Stiles might be screwed up, but he's alive. If the horrors had ever stopped coming and Stiles had had the chance to live as a normal, well-adjusted adult, he suspects he would be outraged at how their late teens was like. He knows some of it already, seeing Claire as a kid at eighteen. But their lives never changed. There was always some danger to be had, some threat to survive. Having a long and protected childhood doesn't seem like a realistic option, in a world like that.

"I'll call for pizza!" Dad yells, so of course Stiles has to get back down and cook him something healthy instead. After all, this is neither a celebration or a meal they think might be their last.


	5. Old Patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles returns to school and is not a happy camper.

Being back in High School is weird. On one hand, he falls back into old routines. There's walking down corridors, the bell ringing, sitting in class. But mostly it all feels unreal. The school represents such a big part of his past. It hardly feels like it should be a real place anymore. All the people are so young and everyone seems to get dramatic over the smallest things. Stiles can't relate to these... teenagers-who-are-supposed-to-be-his-peers-again at all.

The classes are also _really_ boring.

When Stiles was sixteen, he actually liked a lot about school. He still loves learning, if the subject's interesting. But if it isn't either fun or life-and-death his brain tends to wander away and do something else.

Right now, the only thing that interest him is stuff that will help him solve the time travel problem or is at least otherwise supernatural. Chemistry with Harris? Not so much.

Stiles is an adult. He shouldn't have to deal with this. He also knows this is all useless to him. Either he already knows the things Harris is talking about or he will never need it in an emergency. After all, Stiles has never been killed by lack of knowing shit about thermodynamics.

He doesn't even get to work with Lydia. Even if he didn't have to be loyal to Scott, she's not his science bro here. 

So yeah. School sucks. Other than getting to spend the day with alive Scott. And not activly being killed by something. Or arguing with a member of his pack. Stiles _hates_ that. Especially if it's Derek. (The make up sex is great, of course. Silver lining. Or, you know, some more werewolf friendly metal.) But Stiles is digressing. Again.

"No, seriously," Scott insists as he puts his tray down in the cafeteria. "I'm really making first line this year."

"Sure."

"Stop being so-"

"I said 'sure,' Scott. You can't get mad at me for agreeing with you."

"You didn't agree with me, you were being sarcastic!"

"Who, me? I would _never_."

"Stiles!"

He is, of course, giving increasingly ironical agreements every time Scott predicts his future lacrosse supremacy. He's doing it completely without shame and for no other reason than his personal enjoyment. Stiles hates actually arguing with his friends, yes, but this isn't a fight. It's light teasing. Friendly banter. Just because Stiles wants to hug Scott and never let go every time he sees him doesn't mean he won't make fun of the guy. It's his duty as Scott's best friend, and Stiles takes all his duties very seriously.

"It's not like you've been doing any better," Scott protests. He has this adorable sulky look on his face.

" _I'm_ not the one who wants to be first line." Stiles sips his milk and makes sure to look extra superior. Scott snorts, like he thinks it's impossible not to have lacrosse as your first priority. Stiles is pretty sure he wasn't that invested in the sport when he was sixteen for real, but he can't really remember. So much more important shit was going on.

As of now, he'd prefer not to be on the team at all. Why should he run around chasing balls and get tackled by 'friendly' classmates? It feels so pointless.

But it isn't. Just like him suffering through chemistry with Harris again isn't without meaning. It's all about trying to keep up the balance. Act as much as the first time as possible. Something like saving Laura is worth taking risks over. Getting out of lacrosse? Not so much.

This body needs to get in shape anyway.

He looks over at the other tables. Lydia, Jackson and Danny at one. They're surrounded by other people, but Stiles doesn't remember their names.

Boyd is sitting alone.

Erica and Isaac... almost are. There is a table at the back filled with people who sit together, but don't talk. Who don't hang out as much as they eat lunch and take classes next to one another so they won't be alone.

Stiles might have been one of them, if he hadn't had Scott. Not that he would have been quiet, but people other than his best friend had a hard time listening to Stiles' babble for more than a few minutes before he became a cool magic guy and they figured they'd respect him to be on the safe side. Or, well. Mostly. Derek never hesitated to growl at him to shut up. On the other hand, he also learned to pay attention when it mattered. (Or when it was more play than work, but that was boyfriend-listening, not alpha-listening.) Mostly, his pack would just remind Stiles to breathe between the words. He would occasionally take their advice. (Though he still doesn't quite subscribe to the commonly held belief that air is more important than talking.)

"Why are you smiling?" Scott asks suspiciously. And he is, Stiles finds. Smiling, that is. Even when he's still looking at Isaac, _his_ Isaac, at the silent corner table.

"No reason."

He's itching to get up and go sit with his beta. But discretion is the name of the game. He _will_ save Isaac somehow, but he can't do it right now. Besides, while being sad and lonely in the presence of others is definitely not something Isaac deserves it's also not a prioritized danger.

"Now what?" Scott complains, presumably over Stiles changing facial expression. Stiles turns to face him. "You're so... Dude, what's with all these mood swings?"

That makes him grin again, proving Scott's point.

"Have you met me? Do you have amnesia? Hi, I'm Stiles Stilinksi." He puts his hand out for a shake over the table. Scott just glares at him.

"Did you forget to take your meds again?"

"No. I didn't." He holds back a 'fuck you' because Scott's still got wow-you're-alive bonuses.

Stiles stopped taking Adderal when he had just turned twenty-one. It was really shaky way before that. At first because he forgot (hey, he had more important things on his mind, like Scott's werewolfiness) and his sleeping patterns were screwed to hell and then... Well. After they left Beacon Hills and started living under false names it was harder. Sometimes he had pills, usually bought illegally which didn't feel super safe. He did it anyway, because they helped him think. Helped him protect the pack. But constantly going on and off the meds weren't helpful and in the end he decided to just give them up.

He had forgotten what it was like, when he was a kid. Scott could be a jerk, typically without meaning to. Stiles usually never hesitated to chew him out. But some stuff was hard to talk about. He did complain, sometimes, about Scott always playing the Adderal card. Like Stiles being himself could only mean be hadn't been taking his pills. Stiles loves Adderal, no question about it. But sometimes it was like Scott saw his ADHD the way he saw his own asthma. Like a problem. And sure, it can be. But it's also pretty much Stiles' entire personality. And that's not Stiles putting himself in a box or whatever. It's like... most of the things that make up Stiles (minus all the supernatural bullshit) is a symptom. But that doesn't mean it isn't, like, a valid personality.

He never explained that to Scott. Never voiced it to anyone, really, before Derek.

Scott wasn't the only one who acted like that at times, but he was the one who did it the most. Stiles hasn't thought about it in years.

He isn't hungry, but forces himself to keep eating anyway. Scott's going on about lacrosse again.

 _I missed you_ , Stiles thinks. _And the jerky part of you doesn't change that. Hell, I was usually the worse asshole._ But he's still mad about it. Allows himself, really. It's almost kind of nice. That he can be pissed at Scott over something like this again, rather than the whole nobly-dying-to-save-others-and-leaving-Stiles-behind deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I feel I should say I have ADHD myself. (And that neither I nor Stiles are in any way anti Adderal, in case it wasn't clear.)
> 
> That little rant at the end wasn't supposed to happen, but is heavily influenced by my own thoughts and feelings. If you have any questions about it (or about ADHD in general) feel free to ask.


	6. Balance of the Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 'balance' is Stiles' least favourite word.

"So you're gonna work at Deaton's too?"

"Yep."

"I didn't know you'd be interested in that."

"Honestly, it's mostly about the money. And you said Deaton was a good boss, so."

"Yeah, he is. It's too bad we won't be working the same shifts."

"The doc doesn't need two helpers at once, Scott."

"I guess that makes sence."

"'Course it does. I'm the one who said it."

"And you're _always_ so resonable."

"Logic and Reason are my middle names."

Scott rolls his eyes, and just like that he accepts Stiles' new job. Them being sort of colleagues. Of course they'll never work at the same time, but that's because Stiles won't actually be cleaning cat cages. Instead, he and Deaton are going to work on saving the world and stuff. It'll be awesome.

 

"I'm just saying" Stiles says as he cleans a stupid cat cage. "Peter is useful sometimes, but he's also evil and needs to die."

"The balance isn't about good or evil," Deaton intones, like Stiles doesn't already know. Deaton flips through the pages of one of his magic books, like Stiles should be doing. He was doing it, but apparently his inability to stay still made Deaton decide Stiles needed to 'work away some energy'. In other words, punishment. Because Deaton is a bit evil, too.

"It's the easiest way to save Laura."

"And preventing her death would be a very big change that you could not take back."

"Fuck you, you know I can't let her die."

Deaton sighs.

"I am aware."

And Deaton isn't trying to stop him, not really. He just... reminds Stiles every five minutes that he is probably going to break everything. Fun times.

"You know, I can't believe I'm the one arguing for this. I never met Laura. I mean, I've been told she was awesome but you actually saw her grow up. Why don't _you_ care?"

It's mean. It's so mean, Stiles might deserve the cat cages. But he's frustrated, okay. He doesn't need to be told how much everything's going to suck.

"I swore my allegiance to keeping up the balance."

Yeah. That's pretty much why Stiles is in a pack rather than the advisor of one. He's never been one for objectivity.

"Yeah, well. I swore mine to Derek."

"Yes. You did."

Stiles has to save Laura. He's not sure if Peter really should be killed, at least not yet. But it would be so much easier to plan without him. Peter was always a slippery son of a bitch. You could never quite tell what he was going to do. Sometimes he helped, other times he stabbed you in the back and laughed about it. Stiles prefers it when people like that are dead. The dead usually don't do much, if they stay that way.

"Okay. So ways of keeping both Laura and Peter alive. Any thoughts?" Because Stiles might hate the _balance_ but that doesn't mean he doesn't take it seriously. It's his mess to clean up, after all.

"It might be possible to turn Peter into an ally. Bind his ability to hurt members of the Hale pack, for example. There are even ways he could be prevented from harming anyone at all."

"A) He is never going to agree to that and it won't work without consent, right? Not without breaking his mind even more and that's... I wouldn't care, except it would probably end badly. Also, B) he could totally work around it. Just because you can't outright attack doesn't mean you can't make someone die. There's no werewolf version of Asimov's law of robotics as far as I know."

"Perhaps." Stiles looks up. Deaton is smiling as Stiles tries to work out if Deaton has read Asimov or not. "We will have to look into different solutions."

"Yeah, I would, except I'm _wasting my time and talent on this freaking cage_."

"Come on up, then. We have much to do."

 

 

 _"Scott, come on, there's a body in the woods, we_ have _to go look for it."_

_"Dude, no, why?"_

_"It will be awesome. Nothing ever happens in this town."_

_Stiles physically drags Scott to the preserve. He's a horrible human being. He's going to throw up. Scott doesn't know the danger, he has no idea... But Stiles does. He knows exactly what kind of trap he's luring his best friend into. If Scott ever finds out he knew, he's never going to forgive Stiles._

_But Scott has to be bitten. It has to work out like before, the balance needs to be fixed. This isn't about one teenager, even if it is one of Stiles' favourite people. It's about the world. All those people that Stiles lured into a trap, too. Billions of humans and werewolves and selkies and witches and_ people. _Good and evil, but innocent in this. Even the Lamia didn't do something as horrible as Stiles did._

_"Stiles, slow down. Stiles! What's going on?"_

_"Everything will be fine, Scott." Nothing will be fine. He's holding back tears._

_But then._

_He sees a shadow in the corner of his eye. Turns, and suddenly he's in a glade. Scott is gone, and the voices of the cops further away. Peter is standing in front of him, that damned smirk on his face._

_"Little Spark," he coos. "A tiny little Spark in the woods. Whatever am I to do?"_

_He rushes Stiles, as it should have been obvious he was going to. Why bite the clumsy human teenager when there is a Spark full of power next to him?_

_Stiles isn't even sure what he does. He just reacts and then Peter is dead on the ground before him. Broken and bloody and the air smells of burning. Like Peter had been killed with his family._

_And then Dad steps out from behind a three, and Chris Argents and other cops and hunters. Scott is there, looking horrified. Dad is pale and staring. Stiles is still holding a hand out, blood all over him, and there are tiny glittering stars in the air. Sparks, like him._

_The world is going to end, and it's all Stiles' fault. Chris raises his crossbow, doesn't even care about the police. It's almost a relief._

Stiles gasps awake from what should have been a nightmare but wasn't. He starts crying and laughing all at once. Quiet, so he won't scare Dad again.

It was a dream, but it was also proof.

"I told you so," Stiles tells the ceiling. Tells Deaton, who's miles away. "I can't do everything like before. It wouldn't work."


	7. Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac's father is an abusive dick. Stiles reacts badly.

Stiles spends the day rehearsing his upcoming Laura-talk, going through the school-motions and trying not to spoil the Avengers to Scott. He's feeling kinda high after the dream. Like it gave him permission to not freak out over every little change.

He's changing for lacrosse (and going over the pros and cons of killing Peter again) when it happens.

"Sorry, Coach," Isaac says. "I can't play."

"Again? You need to take this more seriously," Finstock mutters, while Stiles _freezes._

He doesn't hear Isaac's excuse or Scott asking Stiles what's going on. His hands are shaking as he puts his shirt back on again. Quietly sends out his magic, while already knowing what he will find.

He has seen Isaac hurt a million times. Bruises that faded almost immediately from his werewolf skin. Other things that lingered. Stiles has dug out bullets from all his betas, lifted curses and distracted them after nightmares. That will never be okay, exactly. But he could understand the monsters. Even the hunters. Fuck, even _Gerard_ had _reasons_ for the shit he did. Like beating Stiles up in his basement or stabbing Scott. Stiles is always going to hate Gerard, but at least it made sense.

Stiles has never, will never understand why Isaac had to suffer like he did. So his father was grieving. That doesn't count. Doesn't excuse taking it out on Isaac.

Derek saved him. And sure, Derek wasn't exactly unselfish when he bit Isaac. Or all that honest about the danger ahead. But it had still been a rescue, despite that teenage Stiles (not to mention Scott) had refused to see it. That was the first time anyone ever rescued Isaac.

And now what has Stiles done? He's been back in this time thirteen days. Every single one of those days he has vowed to save his beta. Yet he has done _nothing_. And now Isaac has two cracked ribs to show for it.

"Stiles?"

"Not now, Scott." He hears how strangled his own voice sounds. Forces himself to take a deep breath, then another. He wants to run. To flee to the other side of the planet. But he can't leave now. He has to at least heal Isaac's injuries. Healing isn't Stiles' forte, especially with no potions, rituals or even touch but he has to try.

So Stiles changes into the stupid uniform and sits on the bench, not in his normal spot, but as close to Isaac on the bleachers as possible. Bites down so he won't accidentally mutter the spell out-loud. He's not sure he has ever tried doing a healing spell silently. But sometime has to be the first, right? It's _Isaac_. Stiles would move mountains for him.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't talk to me right now, Scott. I need to think." He snaps a little, but he can't help it.

"Whatever." Scott is hurt, but at least he doesn't interrupt again.

So. Healing spell.

Stiles goes through every one he can think of. Discards the ones where he'd need props or can't remember the words.

 _But_ , he realizes, _healing spells aren't the only way to do it._ Energy transference, at least, he knows how to do. It would be easier if he could touch Isaac but it will still work. Give Isaac's immune system a boost, send some natural morphine flowing.

Stiles concentrates, lets the magic direct the flow. His eyes flutters shut as he can feel the energy draining out of him. He should have a spotter when he does this, Derek would be furious at him for being careless. But again, it's Isaac. Human Isaac. And it's Stiles fault he got hurt. If Stiles could just push a bit more, give Isaac a little bit more...

He doesn't remember fainting.

Of course, Stiles has never once remembered the fall itself but usually it turns black first. Sometimes he starts seeing spots a second or so before. This time he already had his eyes closed.

"Stiles?!" Scott sounds panicked and when Stiles comes to the whole team is looking at him. In the dirt.

"Sorry, just fell, no worries," Stiles hastily babbles and gives them a wide smile. Scott isn't buying it, but the rest of them seem to. Finstock yells at him and Jackson sneers something to Danny and Stiles doesn't care even the tiniest bit.

"You didn't _fall_ ," Scott hisses at him when Stiles has crawled up on the bench (slowly, so he won't go out again).

"You don't have to protect my honour, Scott. I know it was clumsy. Thanks for not laughing. I would probably have laughed, if it was you. Just FYI."

The rest of training goes on in a blur. Literally, at least in part. Stiles doesn't faint again, but everything goes fuzzy for a minute every now and then. He breathes slowly and tries not to focus his gaze on anything. At least Isaac is a bit better, according to Stiles' magic scans. He doesn't turn around to see if he looks any different. If he noticed that magic was being done to him. But how could he? Isaac has never felt it before.

Plan. Stiles needs one. Not just the long, careful ones with Deaton. He needs to do something with Isaac _right now_. Should have done it first thing. But _what?_

He could get plane tickets. Kidnap Isaac and Scott. Fly them out to New York. Go to Derek, even if he isn't Stiles' Derek yet. And Laura. And then they'd just live there.

Screw the stupid balance. He could do it. Sure, the world would end. Big freaking deal. The world has assholes like Isaac's father in it. People like that don't deserve saving.

They could build their own little pack, Stiles and Isaac, Scott, Derek and Laura. Maybe Dad could come, too. Live out the last time, however long, in New York. Or somewhere else, anywhere. So long as they were together. He just said Isaac was worth anything, right? Then he is worth this as well. Deserves nothing less.

Derek probably wouldn't be impressed, but Stiles could deal with that.

 

 

To be perfectly honest Stiles doesn't remember how he got from the bench to his car, in his normal clothes and showered despite not having exercised. (Well, except for his brain.) That little memory gap is maybe a sign that driving isn't the best idea ever. Stiles is in full on doesn't-care-about-anything mode though, so something small like that can't stop him.

He could go home to buy those plane tickets, or to Deaton's for a crisis meeting, or he could just keep driving until... Until something.

Somehow he ends up at the station instead. He doesn't even have a plan, just gets in. Has to see Dad. The receptionist takes one look at him and waves him in. He remembers her making him show his ID and state his business when he dropped in to give Dad a forgotten lunch bag on the weekends.

Dad is on the phone when Stiles gets into his office, but he can't stop now. Blurts out, without thinking:

"I need to report a crime."

So. It's going to be like that, then.

 

 

It's not Dad who interviews him. Of course it isn't. Stiles hopes for a minute that it would be Parrish, before remembering that he doesn't work here yet.

The deputy who talks to him is called Anderson and Stiles doesn't remember him. He was at the station a lot as a kid, but didn't get to know everyone and it's been years. Still, not to remember a man who must have been among the ones Lizard-Jackson killed is another thing to add to the Stiles-is-a-Terrible-Bad-No-Good-Person list.

"I went over to Jackson's house last night," Stiles fabricates, because he has gotten good at lying over the years. "I... okay, Jackson's Lydia's boyfriend. And I kinda had this plan if I became friends with Jackson and Danny, I would be friends with her as well. And if Jackson and Lydia broke up, I could swoop in and comfort her." It's just the kind of plan sixteen year old Stiles would have come up with, sadly, if he wasn't so intent on disliking Jackson. "So I went over, thinking maybe I'd talk about lacrosse or something. It was a shitty plan, obviously. I don't think I ever really thought I'd go through with it, you know? But I'm sitting in the car, trying to work myself up to it and remembering Jackson threatening to dunk my head in a toilet when I was nine. And then I hear these screams from Isaac's house." He pauses in the pretend nervous babble, because Stiles has heard Isaac scream for real so many times. He wets his lips.

"It really freaked me out and I left. But today at practice he said he couldn't play, and he says that pretty often. And when he _does_ play he has these bruises. Not every time but often. The whole team's seen them but nobody _says_ anything." _Stiles_ didn't say anything, the first time. He was never sure if it was real. He had bruises too, after all, from lacrosse. "And Jackson lives just across from his house. He must have heard the screams, too." Jackson didn't go to the cops about it until it suited him, but Stiles' pretty sure he won't lie if they question him.

Maybe they can trust the system, just this once.

Get Isaac a good foster family, instead of having him hiding away as a murder suspect with nobody but a not very emotionally aware Derek to care for him. And maybe they can throw the bastard Lahey in jail like he deserves. (Or a more drawn out death at Stiles' own hands, if the jury somehow finds the bastard innocent.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is not an expert on abuse and doesn't realize reporting it can be dangerous to the person you're trying to protect. Ideally it wouldn't be but it's something to keep in mind if you face a similar situation in real life.


	8. Flowers and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Deaton pull an all-nighter and have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some talk about characters dying, among them children in the Hale fire. Nothing graphic, though.

"Don't... just don't say anything. I know I fucked up," Stiles tells Deaton. Now, when Stiles is calming down again and thinking clearly he realizes there were about a hundred better things he should have done. Like, say, following the careful plans Deaton helped make. Stiles isn't actually a teenager anymore, he should know better than this.

"What's done is done," Deaton says, showing his disapointment by not sounding or looking at all affected. This is like the Deaton Stiles remembers. With the wolves he always emoted more, for some reason. With human Stiles who couldn't smell his emotions he tended to show less and less as time went by. In the end he would smile a little when he was being approving or felt mysterious and then have this fucking neutral face the rest of the time. Especially when he was angry.

It's late. The clinic is closed. Stiles is supposedly having a sleepover at Scott's but really preparing for an all-nighter over books and redrawn battle plans. Things are changing and they have to try to predict how.

Deaton brings out two whiteboards and Stiles starts scribbling over one of them to avoid looking at him. He picks the Peter-dilemma first, rather than the new Isaac issues. Deaton turns pages in one of the older books behind him. Stiles fills his board, and then just stares at it. It's all the same old questions, the same options. No decisions.

He wishes Lydia was here. She could act without thinking things through properly sometimes too, but she was full of self-confidence. Even when she was scared half out of her mind, she would pull herself together. Would pick the best plan available and then push as hard as she could, like she was _making_ the universe act like she wanted.

Stiles was Derek's right hand, but Lydia was his.

He grabbs a post-it note and writes down _What would Lydia do?_ and sticks it to the top of the board. Nods decisively and turns back to Deaton.

"We should call Laura on Friday. That gives us time to make the final preparations and you know she will be on the first plane down once we call."

Deaton looks at him, gaze heavy. Stiles holds his head high. He is second in command of the Hale Pack, this is his decision to make.

"That sounds reasonable," Deaton says.

 

 

A few hours later they have some pretty good assumptions on how Stiles talk with the police will affect things, more research into time travel and a script for talking to Laura. Stiles has a trump card in case she doesn't want to listen ("Cora's alive") but he really hopes he won't have to use it. Cora shouldn't be involved this early and Stiles doesn't even know where to find her.

Deaton is asleep on the couch in his office. Stiles sits cross legged on the floor bent over his laptop.

There isn't a lot of information on Derek and Laura online. Neither of them have Facebook. Not exactly strange, since they know their family was killed by hunters. Derek even knows exactly which one.

Stiles does find a few things, though. Like a picture. It's not technically a photo of them, but they are caught together in the background. Sitting at a café close by the univerisity Laura attended. Attends. He can't see her too clearly, but Derek has his face in the direction of the camera. He's looking at his sister and he's smiling. It makes Stiles' heart hurt.

Derek almost never showed a real smile, those first years. Stiles would often think it was because of the fire. The grief and, once Stiles found out about it, the guilt. And of course Derek felt that in New York, too. But he still had Laura then. His sister and his Alpha.

He remembers the few times Derek talked about those years, between the fire and Laura dying.

_She would always try to cheer me up. She talked about the future a lot, reminded me that we were going to have one. Once she said she considered taking in an omega or two, but I got angry. I didn't want a new pack._

Stiles is going to meet Laura, this time. It feels so strange. All he has of her is stories, no doubt biased. He's not preventing Laura's death for her sake, but for Derek's. She's going to know that. Stiles wonders what she will think. Will she be happy that he's protecting her brother? Feel threatened, maybe, that he was supposed to take her place as the most important person in Derek's life? Will she be the selfless martyr type and think he should have let her get killed for the balance? But she couldn't want to leave Derek behind.

Stiles left Derek behind. Not the one who's smiling in New York whose big sister is still alive. The broken and angry one at home. The one he loves more than anything. Stiles stares at the picture as he feels the tears well up in his eyes. He just wants to go home.

Deaton, apparently awake again (and how did Stiles not even notice him coming up? he's slipping dangerously) puts a blanket over his shoulders. Sits down next to him on the floor. 

"Derek is going to come here," Stiles says, quietly. "Now, Derek. I am going to meet him."

"Yes. I would imagine so."

They sit silently for a while.

"Come on," Deaton says after a while. He gets up and leaves the room. When he comes back he has a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Stiles raises his eyebrows in question, but follows anyway.

 

 

They get into Deaton's car and it's not until they are nearly at the graveyard that Stiles figures out where they are going.

He has been here many times. Mom is buried here and when he was tweleve he used to talk to her headstone. Bike over every other week, ramble about things that were going on in school and try to feel connected to her. He did it a few times later, too, until he left town.

They are not going to Mom's grave now. Stiles has never been to the Hale family plot, but Deaton's steps are sure in the dark. Soon enough they stand before a big headstone that reads _Hale_ with a latin quote about wolves. There are names and years in smaller script. Far apart for a long time, and then eleven all at once. The eleven that burned, who's bodies were never really put in the ground. Stiles looks away from the names. He knows them from stories, too. Knows that Bianca did the best voices when she read to the children. That Eric baked bread every Saturday morning. That Sarah had just taken her first steps.

Deaton puts down his flowers in a vase.

"Laura and Derek only stayed for the funeral," he says, still fussing over the flowers. "She told me she felt guilty over Peter, that she couldn't stay with him. But that they needed to go. And I agreed."

He rises again, turns to look at Stiles.

"I sent them off, promised I would visit Peter every now and then for them. And I did." He sighs. "And now Laura and Derek are returning, and Peter might be killed."

_Or he might kill Laura_ , Stiles doesn't say. They both know.

"Yeah," he says instead. "They are coming back."

He wonders if Derek ever went to this grave, when he was in Beacon Hills. If he talked to his family, here or anywhere else. Stiles has never heard him do it. Then again, the talks he had with Mom were private too.

"We usually couldn't bury people, when they died," he tells Deatons, unsure of why he says it. "Sometimes we burned the bodies, but only if Derek wasn't there. We did bury a few. And some we-" he stops. Some they had to leave behind. When Malia died, or Melissa. They couldn't risk the ones who were still alive to take the bodies with them.

"Of course some never had any body left," he continues instead. "Like the Hales." Like Tim, who had only been part of the pack for a few weeks when he was eaten by some sort of beast they could never even identify.

Deaton hugs him, then. He never has before. Stiles feels like he should be crying, but he can't.

"I won't ever see Isaac buried," he swears into Deaton's shoulder. "He was alive, in the future. Messed up, but alive and _ours_. I won't let anyone take him from me."

 

 

Stiles goes through school the next day, torn between how tired he is and worrying over everything. Laura will be coming and they will do something about Peter and _Isaac isn't at school_ and Stiles can't even tell Scott why he's freaking out.

Scott clearly knows something's rotten but doesn't say anything, because Scott's awesome. He insists on following Stiles home to play a video game, though. So that's what they're doing when Dad comes home too early.

Stiles has the game paused and is up to meet him before Dad has even said anything. Dad, who looks pale and serious. _No, no, NO!_

"They took Isaac to the hospital."


	9. From the Hospital Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac is not dead and Stiles has a panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short chapter, sorry about that.
> 
> The panic attack is not vividly described, but skip it if you are having a bad day. Of course not all attacks are the same, but I do go on my own experience.

They won't let him see Isaac. Stiles swears and kicks a chair and if he was back home he would have said screw it and gone in by magic. But now, when Isaac thinks he's practically a stranger? What is he going to say? 'Hi, I'm the one who blabbed and put you here'? Yeah, that'd go over great.

"Dude, you need to calm down." Scott forces him to sit down in one of the chairs. Takes the seat next to him and doesn't even try to get free when Stiles grabbs his hand and practically crushes it in his own. Stiles forces himself to breath.

"I talked to the cops," he tells Scott, because he needs to admit it to somebody.

"Talked to them about _what?_ " Oh. Scott has no idea why Isaac's in the hospital bed further down the hall. Why Stiles knows the reason and is freaking out.

"His dad is..." But words fail him. How can he explain a duchbag like Coach Lahey? And why Stiles knew about it? Scott isn't going to buy that Stiles overheard things from outside Jackson's house.

"His _dad_ did that?" Scott asks, eyes wide. Stiles nods.

"I don't even know if they will put him away. If Isaac claims it isn't true..." Stiles laughs a little, broken and wet. Because Isaac is probably going to do just that. To protect his father, when he doesn't deserve it. To try to protect himself. Will seeing the freezer and Isaac's injuries be enough? Stiles can testify, and maybe Jackson.

Fuck. Stiles should have claimed Lahey had gotten to him, too. It would have been easy. Just tell them things about Gerard as if it had been Lahey. Make sure it was their words against each other, because noone would believe Lahey. What did it matter if he hadn't done it, when he was guilty of so much else? He could have gone down for it all. Stiles could even have got Deaton's help, claim he went to his new vet boss to get patched up because he didn't want anyone to know at first. But that Deaton had acted as a responsible adult and convinced him to report it.

It could have been so good and now it's too late.

Isaac got beaten again, badly, because Stiles didn't think.

He clings to Scott, but who he really want is his Derek. It was one of those things they had in common, Derek and him. Fucking up and having people they loved suffer for it. If Derek was here, he wouldn't try to reasure him like Dad will later. Dad will say _it wasn't your fault, Lahey did this, you can't blame yourself_. Derek would growl at Stiles. Tell him _yeah, you screwed up, go fix it._

Isaac isn't dead. Stiles can't make what just happend go away, but he can protect Isaac now. You never give up on anyone so long as they're alive.

"Scott," Stiles says. "I need you to be the nurse whisperer. Find out how bad it is and if he's awake."

"...Sure, okay. And it's cool to leave you alone?"

"It's cool."

He watches Scott leave, steadies himself for a bit and then goes to lock himself in a bathroom. The panic attack has been building up and he can't see Isaac until it's done. 

It's cool, he told Scott. He likes to pretend it is. Like he's a pro at the attacks. That it's just an annoyance. Something to _get over with._

It's terrifying. Every time. His heart is raising, he's whole body shaking and he _can't breath_. Stiles has almost died a million times but somehow he never feels as close to death then as when he does like this, curled up on the hospital bathroom floor.

 

Stiles is tired. He is often tired, after. It's weird, how his heart is still beating faster than normal and part of him wants to watch out for treaths while another part wants to go to sleep. He stays on the floor. It feels good to have a locked door between himself and the rest of the world. He fumbles a bit with his phone before managing to call Deaton.

"Hey," he says. Shit, should Scott have been at work today? If so, he probably blew him off for the video games earlier. It's not Stiles' problem either way. He's not responsible for everything. Just small things like Isaac and the end of the world.

"Stiles," Deaton says.

"So Isaac's in the hospital."

Silence.

"I'm here right now. I'll go see him in a little bit."

More silence.

"I think I'll tell him what's going on. A bit of it."

"Alright."

"Really?"

"I knew the Hale pack for years, and I've been around other packs as well. Not to mention I've been getting to know you, since you've been here. This does not surprise me, and for all that it may be unwise... if anyone can do it it's you."

Stiles has his own moment of silence, then stutters out "Good" and hangs up. He just can't deal with Deaton sometimes. The way he will basically call Stiles an idiot one moment and then come out with things like he really thinks Stiles can do anything. Like he trusts him.


	10. Show and Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to Isaac.

Notice-me-not spells are hard. Stiles has had a lot of practise, though, and it helps that most humans can't smell him or sense his magic. It's a mix of spellwork and looking confident, like he has every right to walk into Isaac's room even after being told no.

It seems so wrong that the room is empty. This Isaac doesn't have a pack yet. But it's not just that. He doesn't have any friends or family. There are no visitors because Isaac is pretty much alone in the world. It makes Stiles want to run back to the bathroom, or maybe burn Beacon Hills to the ground. (But not burn. Never burn. There has been too much fire already.)

Isaac is turning towards the door even before Stiles can drop the spell. Because apparantly Isaac was hyper vigilant even without wolfie senses. Of course he was.

Stiles drops the spell anyway.

"Hey, Isaac."

Isaac narrows his eyes.

"Stilinski." It's so weird, having one of the betas talk to him like a stranger. Having _Isaac_ doing it. The only one of Derek's original betas that survived. Stiles has spent years looking after him, seeing him like a little brother. And now... this.

"I'm not going to claim I get what you feel or anything," Stiles says. "Because I don't. I never could. But I do know..." His voice fails him. He doesn't look away from Isaac, he can't, but he doesn't know what to say. How to make this better.

"What do you want?"

Stiles draws a deep breath.

"I'm going to make sure nothing like this happens again. I can do that. Not like people giving empty promises or thinking it's all easy. I have some... power, that they don't." He's about to vow to take care of Isaac, but that's not what he needs to hear. He could never trust it, has no reason to. "And I'm going to get you power, too. I'm going to make you strong so that he can never touch you. So that if he tries, you can kill him if you want to."

Laura is going to love being told to bite Isaac.

"What they hell are you talking about?"

Stiles gives less impressive speaches than Derek. That's fair. Derek had his Alpha powers and were probably doing the eyes. But Stiles can give a bit of a show himself. Back up the claim of having power.

He doesn't want to do anything super big. There might be someone around who could sense it, or it might disrupt some machines that really shouldn't be disrupted. Hospital, and all. So Stiles holds out a hand and starts chanting in latin. The lights in the room dim, centering right around him like magic spotlights. A blue flame appears in his hand and his eyes flash purple.

It's basically a party trick. An illusion that takes very little energy but looks awesome. Designed back in the middle ages by some fairly weak mages who wanted to scare away enemies by tricking them into thinking they were super magical and scary. It's not at all like actually summoning fire.

This Isaac has never seen magic before, so Stiles figures the show will be good enough.

Maybe it's too good. Isaac flinches away from him, and isn't that a knife in Stiles' already broken heart? Not unreasonable, though. He just can't stop screwing up, apparently. A trick designed to be scary? Sure, lets try to _frighten_ the guy to earn his trust! Great plan, Stiles. 

He lets the illusion go and smiles apologetically.

"So I'm magic," he explains. "It can do some pretty cool stuff. Like putting up wards. Have you heard about wards? Like in Harry Potter. If I put one up around this room it could keep certain _unwelcome_ people from comming in, unless they use stronger magic."

It's a very simplified explaination. If this was Lydia, he would totally geek out about magic theory but Isaac was never interested in that. Didn't have to much trust in wards either, but Stiles is going to put some up in the room either way, so he might as well tell him what they do.

"You're insane," Isaac says, wideeyed. Okay. So magic show and tell hasn't sunken in yet.

"No, I'm not." Stiles might not be entirly truthful, he hasn't been mentally stable in a long time, but that's not really relevant right now. "This is real. Not a lie, or a trick-" well it is, but a magical one "-or a hallucination. The world just contain a lot of stuff that most people don't know about anymore. Like hundreds of years ago, everyone knew werewolves were a thing. But now people think it's just stories."

"Werewolves?"

"Yeah." Stiles has to smile, fondly. "Werewolves."

Isaac narrows his eyes again.

"Are you trying to claim you're..."

"A wolf? Oh God, no, that's hilarious. No, most of my friends are werewolves. I'm a Spark, which is pretty much a magician, and totally human."

 _Most of my friends are werewolves_. Well, it's true. They are just not in the same timeline as him.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Well, there was that bit of proof just a second ago. But I guess you deserve some answers, and I'm going to give them to you."

Stiles sits down in an ugly but somewhat comfortable chair provived by the hospital.

"Another thing that's real is timetravel," he begins, seriously. And oh god, there is no going back now, is there?

He tells the story about Scott being bitten by a werewolf and some of the things that happend later, focusing on Isaac joing the pack. He talks about how many dangerous things came after them and how people died, but doesn't go into the same details he did with Deaton. He promises Isaac can talk to Deaton too and that Stiles is going to convice Laura to give Isaac the bite if he wants it.

"You can't tell anyone about this. Not just about werewolves and magic - it's pretty much always a bad idea to tell people about that - but the timetravel. Because the fewer people who know the safer we will all be. You know movies and comic books that mess with time? They talk about paradoxes a lot. And those are real, too. If it happens, it will be really, _really_ bad."

Stiles is using his most grave expression and tone, but he doesn't go into exactly _how_ bad it would be. This is supposed to be Supernatural Shit 101, albeit a crashcourse with timetravel extra. Isaac doesn't need the apocalypse thrown at him. They will take it like _Supernatural_. The TV-show. Have some seasons of monster-of-the-week and bonding before going too dark.

And then... and then. They get to Stiles here, in this time, telling the cops about Isaac.

It takes Isaac a few seconds to get it. Like he was too wrapped up in Stiles' crazy story to remember where he was, who put him here. Why it was Stiles' fault.

"Get. Out." He sounds just like Derek. The cold anger of the early days. The undercurrent of threat, for all that Isaac can't do anything to hurt Stiles. In other ways than emotionally, anyway. 

"I will put up the ward," he instists. "And then I'll leave."

It takes some time. Stiles has his chalk but no herbs or anything else prepared. He can't target a specific person, even if it is a human without powers, without looking up the right ritual and having props. And besides, Isaac's father isn't the only danger in the world. So Stiles draws general goodwill runes in hidden places in the room. Behind the window curtains. Very small close to the floor. On the pipes under the basin. Isaac glares at him the whole time, but Stiles can hardly feel it. He's chanting low and concentrating. _Keep Isaac safe, keep Isaac safe, keep Isaac..._

It's not a perfect ward by a longshot. But it strongly discurages normal humans who are angry and mean harm from entering and sap powers from them if they do. If Mr Lahey somehow got out of holding and in here, it should make him pass out. The effect would be weak on most supernatural creatures and magic users. Either way, it will tell Stiles that somethings wrong. If he'll get here in time... He probably won't.

The wards are unlikely to be needed. Stiles just has to hold on to that thought. He can't keep a 24/7 watch, doesn't have anyone to help him.

"I will get back tomorrow with an amulet," he promises. Then he walks out the door as quickly as he can, barely taking the time to put up a new notice-me-not.


	11. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A phone call to Laura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted to see Laura? Here she is.

Sleep is for people who have less shit to do, Stiles decides. He makes Isaac an amulet, reads more books, rakes through the internet, strenghtens the wards every few hours like a paranoid bastard, tries to act normal at school and avoids Dad and his not-your-fault-bullshit and _doesn't ever stop_. Can't stop, doesn't know how he would get up again if he did.

Sometimes his head is spinning he's so tired. But every time he tries to rest the panic and guilt sets in again. He doesn't have any sleeping pills in the house and wouldn't dare to take one without a guard anyway. So he works. Catches a few minutes of sleep here and there, usually at his computer, before he keeps going. Scott's giving him worried looks and Deaton forces more herbal tea at him, but nothing slows Stiles down for long.

And so it's Friday afternoon at the clinic. Deaton picks up his phone and dials Laura. Stiles bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. Seconds, eternities, pass.

"Hello, Laura," Deaton says. Then he waits and Stiles _hates_ that he can't hear what she's saying. The cons of being human.

"Do you remember a Deputy named Stilinski in the Beacon Hill's police force?"

More silence.

"He has a son. Stiles. Who is standing right in front of me."

It feels weird to be introduced as Dad's son in a supernatural context, when it has always been the other way around before. Dad being "Stiles' father." Especially after he was no longer the Sheriff.

"He needs to talk to you. I just want to assure you that he is not a danger to you or Derek."

Stiles is a huge danger. He is the most dangerous. He licks the blood off his lip nervously.

"When you were five years old you were given a stuffed bunny and named it Agatha."

Stiles almost snorts. It's not actually funny, but he has so many emotions inside him that it's hard to keep track of them. He didn't know what Deaton would say to convince Laura that he was really Deaton and not under duress, but he knew there would be something. It was in the script.

Deaton mentions a few names of people and places, presumably answering further security questions. Then he holds out the phone to Stiles, who takes it in clammy hands.

"Stilinski."

Laura's voice is hard and suspicious. He has never heard her talk before.

"Hale."

They are both quiet for a bit.

"What do you want?" Laura spits out. Stiles gets that. He's not only a stranger, but a reminder of a place she never wants to get back to. A place he wishes she could avoid for the rest of her very long life, but that's not going to happen. 

"I have some information about threats to you and Derek."

"I thought Deaton said you _weren't_ going to threaten me."

"I'm not! I'm really not." Stiles flails a bit, despite having expected it. "I'm _informing_ you, because I want you to be _safe_."

"Why?"

Dear God. 

"I'm a good person. I care."

"I have no way of knowing that."

"You have Deaton's stellar recommendation?"

"Deaton has a history of advising what he thinks is right, not necessarily what is safest."

And Stiles laughs, before he can stop himself. He knew there was a reason he liked Laura.

"He really does," Stiles agrees. "And I'm not going to tell you it's all sunshine and rainbows with me. But I have a lot invested in this, and I can't really tell you all my reasons over the phone."

Laura hums a bit. There is a sound in the background and Stiles' heart jumps. Is Derek there, listening in? _Is he hearing Stiles' voice right now?_

"You still need to give me a bit more, Stilinski."

"How about this: I have a vision of the future that I hope comes true, but I have also _seen_ things that I hope never happens."

Stiles is not going to mention high risk information on an unprotected line. He did, when he was a teenager, but he knows better now. Did know better, even then, but kept forgetting. The werewolf bit wouldn't be so bad, maybe not Spark either. But time travel? Out of the question.

What he does say still implies magic, or so Deaton insisted it would, but more like a literal vision than having lived through shit.

"Hm," Laura says. "And these hopes of yours involve Derek and me."

"Among other people. You, Derek-" it hurts, saying his name, possibly having Derek hear him say the name "-Deaton and Peter." Laura growls. 

"If you are _threatening_ a man who can't even defend himself..."

He'd like to laugh again. Stiles suspects it would not go over well if he did.

"Peter can absolutely defend himself. He's been healing. And that's one of the things we really need to talk about."

Silence. Stiles listens to her breathing, tries to sharpen his hearing and take in another set of lungs as well. Remembers his own Derek's breathing. Quick and shallow in fights, like Stiles first knew it. Slow and deep when they were in bed together, when Derek had just fallen asleep but was not yet having a nightmare.

"I'm coming down," Laura says, like they assumed she would.

"We'll be at the clinic." And then Stiles hesitates. "Don't... If you could. Keep Derek back, to begin with. Just to be safe."

Stiles thinks he hears a protesting growl in the background, but he can't be sure. Oh well. It can't be worse than Stiles' _first_ first-impression.

"As if I would take him," Laura snaps, and Stiles feels conflicted. On the one hand, awesome. Derek won't be involved in the initial confrontation with Peter and Stiles can put off seeing the wolf who should be his mate but isn't. On the other... Laura is going in without backup (Deaton notwithstanding) just like she did the first time. She is trying to protect her brother but from Derek's point of view it might read as not trusting him. Either way Derek will be alone in New York, worrying about his only family going into danger. It's a mess.

"Then I guess I will see you, Laura."

"You better be where you say you are when I get there." And then she hangs up.

"So," Stiles says to Deaton. "That went well."

"As well as could be expected," Deaton answers.

Laura didn't say which time she would arrive. If it's tomorrow or in a few hours. Either way, Stiles isn't leaving. He would like to stay alive and with all of his limbs attached to him if at all possible. 

Deaton goes to check on some of the animals, and Stiles just... stands around for a while. Tries to digest. Then he sighs and calls Scott.

"Hey, I need a favor."

"Hm?" Scott sounds like he's not entirely listening.

"I've got stuff to do tonight. Promise I'll tell you about it later! But in case Dad asks, I'm sleeping over at your place."

Scott hesitates, but Stiles doesn't doubt him.

"Oookay," Scott finally says, and Stiles smiles. "But it'd better be one hell of an explanation, Stiles. You've been so _weird_ lately."

"Explanation. Cross my heart."

"You're not doing drugs, are you? Other than the medicines, I mean."

"Medicines are not drugs, Scott," Stiles nit-picks to be an ass. "Or technically medicines are drugs, but drugs are not medicine, in that they are not prescribed and there is no..."

"Stiles! _Are_ you doing drugs?"

"No, Scott. Adderal is my only drug, I promise. Adderal and sugar."

"Okay." Pause. "So I guess I'm your pretend sleepover buddy now, huh?"

"I can pay you in chocolate if the explanation isn't enough."

"Maybe. I'll wait to see if I need to be bribed."

"You should always take the bribe."

"Says the cop's son."

"Oh haha. Your Mom is working tonight, right?"

"Yeah. Otherwise the whole pretend sleepover would be kinda hard."

"We'll have a real sleepover to make up for it. We might even have a pillow fight. Have we ever had a pillow fight, Scott? I don't think we have. This is a huge oversight."

"I guess we better fix that, then."

"Trust me, Scott. We will."

Stiles isn't always great at fixing things but Scott has a knack for it. It's like he's slowly putting Stiles back together, just by talking to him. Even when Stiles is stressing out and failing Isaac and doesn't have his pack - he has Scott. And that has to count for something.


	12. The Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura comes to the clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The middle piece touches on unwanted thoughts of suicide. It can be skipped.

"Stiles." There is a strange finality to Deaton's tone and Stiles looks up, immediately expecting something bad. Deaton puts a leather bracelet on the exam table. Stiles eyes it suspicously. It's a slightly reddish brown with a pattern that reminds him of Keltic knots.

"What's that?"

Deaton runs a finger over the bracelet, quiet. Then he sighs.

"When I was the Hale family emissary, I would sometimes be called out to help with a wolf that was... less than in control. If they were ill or injured or a young teenager. Thalia would bring them down first-" Stiles remembers his Derek doing that. Dominating wolves into behaving. Remembers how it worked on Stiles, too. How sometimes Stiles did it to the Betas, as second in command. He blinks, tries to re-focus on what Deaton is saying.

"Sorry, what?"

Deaton gives him a blank look of disappointment.

"This bracelet was given to me, for my protection."

And Stiles feels himself go cold as he understands. He takes a quick step backwards.

"A protection specifically against Hales."

"Yes." Deaton holds his gaze, unblinking.

"No. No way. It was made for you, they trusted you. I'm _not_ putting it on. It's _Laura_. We should be... It should have to... I deserve whatever she does, anyway."

Deaton picks the bracelet up, slowly.

"It's not about you, Stiles. It's about the world."

"I know!" Stiles hears the faint hysteria in his own voice. 

"So wear it. To be safe. You can't keep anyone else out of harm's way if you die."

He wants to say that Laura wouldn't hurt him, but he's not an idiot. He knows that he's a stranger in Laura's eyes, and a threat to the only pack she has. That it might seem, to her, like taking Stiles out would solve all her problems.

"We can keep her on the other side of the mountain ash," he argues. "Or I could make a circle in here. I'll even wear general protections, just not something Hale specific."

"If this was a meeting with Peter, you wouldn't complain."

"That's different."

Peter is a jerk and he has killed people Stiles loved. Tried to kill Stiles himself several times. And yeah, Stiles returned the favour. Did help killing him, once, not that it stuck.

Laura is... She's Laura. Stiles knows he doesn't have an unbiased picture of her, okay, but he still can't help seeing her as Derek's perfect sister. All sunshine and rainbows and strength.

"This was given to me by Thalia, who was the Hale family Alpha then" Deaton says. Stiles nods, because exactly, it was given to _Deaton_ , not Stiles.

"Do you not think that Derek, the Hale family Alpha of your time, would have wanted you to have it? To keep you safe and prevent Laura from doing something she would later regret."

Fuck.

"That's not even fair," Stiles complains. Deaton smiles.

 

 

 

Stiles wears the bracelet. It's not perfect protection, it never was and less so when it's attuned to someone other than the wearer, but it's something. He also wears a hoodie with the sleeve covering his wrist, because Stiles would really like it if Laura never ever finds out he had the stupid thing. That he betrayed the Hale pack, for all that he was acting on orders from an imaginary Derek from the future. Somehow, Stiles doesn't think she will recognize future-Derek's authority.

Deaton is taking care of the animals. He won't let Stiles help, because apparently they sense his stress and freak out. So he's pacing in the exam room, biting his nails, imagining a thousand worst case scenarios.

He wants to... Well. He wants to impress Laura. Wants her to like him, to think he's good for Derek. And it's not logical, because her Derek and Stiles' Derek aren't the same person, not really. Just like the sixteen-year-old whose place Stiles took was a very different Stiles from the one he is now.

In a different universe, if Laura had lived and Derek and Stiles had somehow still gotten together, she would have been his sister-in-law.

This _is_ a different universe. Hopefully, Laura is going to live. Derek and Stiles... He forces himself to stop and breath. Unclench his hands. There is probably not going to be any Derek and Stiles, this time around. Even if Derek was somehow interested, how could Stiles stand it? Looking at someone who is always going to be not-quite-right? Who didn't share that history, who could never... Derek doesn't deserve that.

Deaton and Stiles haven't talked about the bondmate issue at all. Stiles is not going to bring it up. He's terrified Deaton will tell him to go after Derek, to keep things the same, to lay back and think of the balance...

Stiles slams his fists on the table. The metallic sound echoes around the room.

No. No way. Stiles is not putting them through that. Not Derek and not himself.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles to the empty room. To the Derek he left behind, the Alpha who will never be. The Mate that is only a memory. "I'm so fucking sorry. I..." He swallows. "I wish I had kissed you that morning, you know? I knew the Lamia might get us. She probably did kill you. Why didn't I say I loved you one last fucking time? Shit."

He takes a minute to force his hands to stop shaking. Laura is coming. He needs to get himself together.

It will be just like meeting any foreign Alpha, he tries to tell himself. He has to represent his pack. Make his Derek proud.

If Derek died, Stiles is the Alpha now. For all that he's human and the Betas are lost in another timeline.

Stiles lived. And because he lived, he has to keep moving. Like he did when Mom died, or Scott or Malia or any of the others. Time (fucking time) presses the living forward and they move because that's all you can do. You put one foot in front of the other and make stuff up as you go. Slowly, you become better at improvising and enduring. And you survive until the day you don't.

 _Stop it_. He recognizes this kinds of thoughts. They begin with survival, then they go into the world being cruel and finally spin closer and closer to death. Not being killed by some supernatural threat - though god knows Stiles has spent enough time obsessing over that - but suicide.

The very concept used to scare him so much. Like the thought meant it would happen and he would leave his Dad, leave everything. He tried to shut them out for years, the bad thoughts - still does, to some degree - but they come back. When he's scared and lonely. When he can't sleep. When everything is so hard, it doesn't seem worth it.

He has told himself a million times to stop thinking like that. Clung to other people, to responsibilities he has to them. As if his life is not enough by itself.

Over the years, he fought the thoughts less. It was so draining. He would go through periods where he tried to let them be, hoping they would flow out naturally. It didn't work so great, either.

He hasn't found a good solution yet. (The best was having sex with Derek and holding him afterwards, breathing in his scent as he fell asleep. That will never - _No. Think of something else.)_

Stiles is a little broken. He hopes he will live long enough to get better. Because he does have good things here. Dad and Scott and Deaton. Isaac. Magic. The Hale territory that they had to leave. He will get Derek too, in a different way. Lydia. Laura is going to fit into it all somehow, too.

Stiles might be broken, but he's extremely competent. He will find a peaceful solution to this mess and when it's over he's getting a therapist who's in the know. Mental help that's actually helpful, rather than a certain Asylum.

_I'm going to survive. It's going to suck but I will make it. I will._

_And then_ , a new thought makes him smirk. _I'll find that Lamia and I'm taking her down._

 

 

Deaton is standing by his little reception desk gate. Stiles is in the doorway to the exam room. Laura Hale is walking through the other door from the outside world. 

Her eyes are red, slipping right past Deaton and onto Stiles. Her steps are long and confident and she wears all black. She growls, a loud and continuous sound. Even the most mundane of humans would be able to feel the dominance and danger rolling off of her. Stiles has to fight not to make himself smaller or look away.

"Alpha Hale," Deaton greets in a calmly professional tone, as if nothing even remotely threatening is going on. "I present to you Stiles Stilinski." It sounds off, not hearing his own titles following that, the way they would back home.

Laura has reached the mountain ash desk. She stops and the growl rises slightly. She makes no indication of using words. Stiles is pretty freaking good at reading werewolves but he can't tell if she would leap over the desk and go for his throat if she could.

Stiles bites down hard not to speak. Not to let all the words inside bubble over. He's calm and professional. He can do this.

Eventually the growl dies down. She doesn't stop glaring.

"Stilinski," she hisses.

"Alpha Hale," he returns, keeping his tone just light enough and giving a measured nod - not quite a bow and not breaking eye-contact. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

She growls again, a shorter but louder sound than before, to make it clear that the visit is in no way because Stiles asked.

It's politics now. Stiles is feeling better. He dealt with other Alphas a lot, once upon a time, because despite being human and getting all his training from late teenage years and adulthood he had a good grasp on it. He was more diplomatic than Derek but more devious than Scott.

Even with his magic, Stiles is never going to be the most useful pack-member in a battle. But in the politics he can shine.

"Answers," Alpha Laura Hale demands from behind closed teeth.

"Time-travel," Stiles says, matching her briefness.

Her eyes narrow. 

"You claim to know me in the future."

Ah. Stiles was kind of hoping this part of the story wouldn't come up so soon.

"No. I know Derek from the future. I never met you."

She's quiet again. Doesn't look any less like she wants to maim him, but hopefully she's making the logical assumption.

"You wanted to 'warn us' about a danger."

"Yes."

"Tell me."

Here goes.

"I told you Peter has been healing. And by that I meant his body. I've been working under the assumption that he was more or less sane before the fire. At the very least not out to murder his sister's kids."

A beat goes by. Two. Then Laura snorts.

"Are you implying, that Peter - a man who has been catatonic for years, and let's for discussions sake say newly woken up - killed me?" She's almost literally sending out waves of sheer danger, like she is insulted by the idea that anyone in the world could kill her.

"Yes," Stiles agrees. "He lured you into a trap. If you saw him at all, you saw your uncle miraculously healed. He shouldn't have been a threat to you."

He sees something flicker in her face for just a second. Maybe it's because he's good at reading werewolves, maybe it's that he's seen Derek react the same way when he hears something he doesn't want to believe that's starting to sound plausible. Or maybe Stiles just sees what he wants to see.

"Tell me more." How does she manage to sound both reluctant and clearly bossing him around _at the same time?_

He tells her more. About Peter, what he did. How Stiles and Deaton would like to stop it.

Laura doesn't say anything about the time travel. Doesn't seem to doubt it's possible, but Stiles assumes she doesn't realize how dangerous it is. Derek never hesitated to yell about crazy plans. (The hypocrite. Like his ideas weren't the most stupidly deadly ones.) 

He doesn't bring it up. If Laura has one reason less to be mad at him, all the better.

They talk mostly about Peter. Stiles speaks slower than usual, making sure to scan every word for balance ruining before he says them. He keeps more back now than he did with Isaac, not to mention Deaton.

Eventually he runs out of things to say. Laura doesn't say anything either. Stiles manages, again, not to start babbling nervously or make sounds just to fill the silence.

"Go sleep on it," Deaton advises. "Think it over. Meet us here again tomorrow."

Laura nods, turns on her heel and leaves. The door doesn't slam after her. It seems like there should be slamming. Stiles looks at the whiteboard - carefully wiped clean before Laura's visit - and the post-it. _What would Lydia do?_

"You too, Stiles," Deaton says with a quiet little sigh. "We should all sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning."

They won't, Stiles is pretty sure. But it's a nice lie. Deaton is good at those.

Stiles grabs the post-it on the way out.

Lydia would have liked Laura, he decides. Maybe she will, this time.


	13. A Deal in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night phone call and a confrontation

Stiles startles awake, fumbling for his phone before he has consciously realized it was a call that woke him up. His heart is beating hard enough to hurt and he has to force himself not to grab a weapon and _fight_ something that isn't there.

"Yes?" he hisses into the phone.

"Stiles." It's Laura. Stiles glances at the illuminated numbers on his clock radio. Laura Hale is calling him at 04:17 in the morning. In a past, alternate reality. How is this Stiles' life?

"Laura." He uses her first name, because she used his, and tries to sound calm and professional. Apparently she has slept on things enough and won't wait 'til morning. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I am at the house."

Stiles doesn't bother asking which house she means. What better place to stay than the ruins of your old family home where almost everyone you loved burned to death? It's obviously much better than say, booking a hotel room.

"I thought about what you said," Laura continues. "And I decided I would put an end to it all."

Wait, what? Stiles feels cold, all of a sudden.

"What did you do?"

"I have Peter, and..."

"WHAT?" Stiles interrupts, voice shrill. For a second he worries about waking Dad, before remembering he has a late night shift. 

"I thought I would put an end to it," Laura repeats. "But I... He hasn't reacted at all. I need more proof."

"I'm coming over," Stiles promises, hysterically. "I'll be right there. _Don't take your eyes off him_." He hangs up, swears and throws on shoes and yesterday's clothes. Hesitates for just a second before digging up the bracelet from his sock drawer and breaking the seal on the small wooden box he put it in. If this was Peter you would wear it, Stiles reminds himself. Now it _is_ Peter. He puts the bracelet on and conceals it before rushing down the stairs. 

 

 

 

By the time Stiles reaches the Hale House he has broken several traffic laws and gone through every swear word he knows at least twice. He stumbles gracelessly out of the car and _runs_ to the door. _Come on Laura. Don't be dead. Don't you fucking dare be dead again, you just got here. I just saved you._

He bursts in, spell already on his lips.

Peter Hale is sitting in a wheelchair, staring at nothing. Laura is in the room as well, but Stiles hardly notices her. It's like Peter's presence swallows up everything else. Stiles wonders what Peter can smell on him. Rage and fear, probably. He must be wondering who Stiles is. Calculating in that head of his, while nothing shows on his fucking blank face.

If Stiles had a little less self-control, he'd blast the son of a bitch to pieces.

Instead - because while this situation is a surprise he _really didn't want, Laura_ , he has been preparing for Peter for a while - Stiles takes out a bag of mountain ash and starts making a circle. He walks slowly, doesn't look away from Peter, doesn't even blink until the wolf in entirely surrounded. Then he dares to sigh and take a step back.

"I'm waiting for my proof, Stilinski," Laura growls. And fine. She wants proof? Stiles will get her some damn proof.

"Hello, Peter," he says, in his sweetest voice. "My name is Stiles. I know you can hear me. I know a lot of things about you. But most of all, I know what you want. And I can give it to you."

Peter is still not reacting. Stiles feels himself smile without meaning to. The big, toothy smile he picked up from hanging out with werewolves too long.

"If you do what I say, I will get you Kate Argent. And you can kill her as slowly as you like."

Peter blinks, once. Then he turns his head, focuses at Stiles. One corner of his dry lips perks up. Stiles hears Laura gasp behind him.

"And how can you promise such a thing?" Peter asks, voice hoarse from disuse.

"I think you will find there isn't much I can't do."


	14. Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More casual conversations about murder, starring Stiles, Laura and Peter.

Stiles has spent years hating Peter. Sure, Stiles knew intellectually that Peter had been broken by the loss of his pack, but he never felt any pity. Peter made his own choices.

He doesn't pity him now either. A big part of Stiles would still like to kill him. But... Well. Stiles has lost his own pack, now. No matter what he does he can never get them back.

"You will be trapped here and under a 24/7 guard until I deliver Argent to you," Stiles says. He's trampling over Laura's authority, but she doesn't protest. "Once it’s over you will voluntarily take part in a ritual that prevents you from using violence, even in self-defence. If Laura still claims you as pack-" Stiles resolutely does not turn to look at her "-she may lift part of the ritual in a few years, if you have proven your loyalty. If she does not claim you the ritual will be unbreakable, even by me as the caster."

"And if I do not agree?" Peter asks, predictably.

"If you refuse now you won't get Argent, so I assume you mean if you change your mind after. And it's simple: I'll kill you. Or Laura might do the honor."

Laura is the Alpha, here. Stiles needs to remember that. He has already promised Kate Argent away, when it should have been Laura's kill.

"That seems... reasonable," Peter says. 

"Doesn't it just." Stiles can't tell if Peter doubts his ability to murder him. Though he shouldn't, not when he is trapped and Stiles could easily shoot him with silver bullets. Stiles has never believed in fighting fair, especially not after he started hanging out with supernaturally strong people. Sure, Stiles might be able to win a real fight against Peter - he has combat magic and knowledge of Peter's best moves - but why put himself in that situation when he doesn't have to? It's like telling a fairy your name or accepting wine from them because it seems polite.

Stiles turns, then. Puts his back to Peter and pretends he isn't worried about it at all. Meets Laura's gaze. She's still wide eyed but seems to have put herself back together impressively quickly.

"A 24/7 guard, Stilinksi?" she asks and cocks an eyebrow. "Why do I have a feeling you just volunteered me?"

She's Peter's Alpha, of course she is going to take part in guarding him. But she's trying to make it seem like a hardship. Stiles obligingly puts a sheepish expression on his face.

"Deaton and I will take shifts, but we both have things we have to do during the day and would like to get at least a little sleep at night. So yes, I would appreciate your help-" he forces himself not to hesitate "-as well as Derek's."

She glares at him.

"Derek."

"Yes."

"You said yourself you didn't want Derek here."

Stiles would also prefer not to have this conversation in front of Peter, but he can't be left alone. Even inside the circle.

"Of course I want Derek to stay away from the shitstorm of dangers that's going to happen here. But he's part of the Hale pack and we're going to need him."

"Hm."

"If it helps at all," Stiles says, and he can't help looking away from her. "I'm not going to be spending much time with him. It would be weird, with him not being the one I... expect." He almost said knew, but he doesn't want to spill the time traveling beans to Peter unless he absolutely has to. Peter is the kind of person who, when presented with a scenario like that, would look for personal gain rather than the risks.  
Laura narrows her eyes. Stiles can practically see her wondering what his relationship with his Derek was like.

"Would you like the first shift," Stiles asks, "or should I take it?"

"I will do it. We will talk more later."

He nods and leaves. Drives out of werewolf earshot before he calls Deaton - because this is clearly a night to wake people up with phone calls - to inform him of these new developments. Deaton decides that since the clinic is closed tomorrow he is going to watch Peter when Laura's shift is over. They can figure out a proper schedule once Derek arrives.

Stiles tries to pretend he can say his mate's name without wanting to cry, but now that he's away from Peter and Laura it's all crashing down on him. Deaton probably hears his voice shake, but doesn't say anything.


	15. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott was promised some answers.

Scott opens the door, takes one look at Stiles and grabs on to him. Like he thinks Stiles might run away. Which, to be fair, he wouldn't mind doing. Explanations and moments of truth-but-not-the-entire-truth suck. He goes with Scott willingly, though.

"Your Mom's away? Asleep?" he asks, mostly to stall.

"Asleep," Scott confirms. Melissa worked nights a lot when they were kids. So did Dad. Scott and Stiles grew up knowing how to play quietly or go outside. Stiles wonders if he should take the talk outside now. On one hand, Melissa could wake up. On the other, much worse things might overhear them in the woods or at a café or something. The clinic would have been perfect, Deaton isn't even there, but it's too late for second guessing.

Scott leads him through the house by the shoulder and forces him to sit down on the bed. Then Scott sits himself down in his computer chair and gives Stiles the most stubbornly challenging look imaginable.

"You promised me answers."

"Yes. And you will get them."

They stare at each other. Stiles avoids blinking.

"So _give it_ to me," Scott growls, almost like the wolf he isn't. " _Explain_."

"Right." Stiles hesitates one last moment. "You remember when we were... seven, maybe? And Jackson made fun of you for believing in faeries?"

"Uh-hu."

"Yeeeah. Turns out you were right, and Jackson was wrong - no surprise there - and a lot of shit that people don't believe in is actually totally real."

"Is this a joke? Because you said you weren't doing drugs..."

"Oh my God, Scott, I'm not- Just. Listen, okay? Magic is real. I can use it. Deaton explained it to me." Years ago. But it doesn't hurt to make the mentorship seem recent, to avoid mentioning time travel.

" _Deaton_ explained _magic_ to you?" There is an implied eye-roll in Scott's tone. Very hurtful. Stiles is hurt. (Yes, he might be a liar. That doesn't mean Scott shouldn't blindly trust what he's saying. They're best friends.)

"He sucks at being a magic teacher, by the way. Goes all cryptic and shit."

"Doctor Deaton."

"No, this other Deaton I know. Of course Doctor Deaton. Alan Deaton. He never looked you in the eye and said 'Scott, there is no such thing as magic' right? And wow, that's totally what Vernon Dursley said when-"

"Focus!"

"Wow. You sound kinda serious. I gotta be honest with you buddy, if you dropped the supernatural bomb at me when I had no idea about shit, I would not try to make sense of it. Probably. I always had a nerd-boner for magic - so it's great I got it! - and I did take my whole awakening rather well."

He grins at Scott. Who glares back.

"You said no drugs. How about no alcohol?"

"Alcohol's a drug. Also, totally sober."

"I thought so. This is just you being... you."

"Hey!"

"Stiles. If you want me do some kinds of, I don't now, roleplay with you here..."

"Kinky."

"Shut up! I'm trying to say, if this is game like when we were kids, that's cool. I'm not going to blow off and say it's childish or whatever. But you need to actually talk to me first."

Stiles feels all soft and warm inside. He has the urge to laugh, too. Because Scott always did back his ideas - well, usually. When he thought it was important to Stiles. Sometimes he complained - hello, being dragged into the woods to look for a body - but he almost never refused and Stiles can't remember a single instance when Scott called one of Stiles' fancies childish or weird. He's sixteen and totally up for playing make-believe about magic, because he thinks that's what Stiles wants. This after Stiles used him as an excuse to do something at night, something he didn't invite Scott to and still hasn't explained.

"Dude. You are so awesome, you don't even know. But no, I'm talking about the real thing here."

Scott opens his mouth again, but Stiles starts chanting. Doing the same trick he did for Isaac, because apparently that's tradition now.

Scott freezes in his chair, and for a second Stiles can't even breathe. Doesn't know what he'll do if Scott is afraid of him. Stiles drops the fire illusion but keeps the purple eyes a little longer so Scott can keep seeing the proof.

"It's me," he begins, and he hates how uncertain his voice sounds but he can't lose Scott again he _can't._

"I... know," Scott says. He blinks repeatedly, like Stiles is going to disappear. " _Dude_. How did you do that?"

"Magic." Stiles smiles and lets his normal eye color return. "I told you, Deaton taught me. Well, this trick in particular I found in a book. It doesn't really do anything, just looks cool."

"But there are no... special effects or, or something?"

"Nope."

"You're totally kidding me!" Scott's voice is a bit loud, but probably not enough to wake Melissa.

"Totally not!" Stiles does laugh, then. He can't keep it in. Maybe he really can dazzle Scott with magic and avoid talking about the big things.

"Show me again," Scott demands.

 

 

An hour later Stiles lays down on the bed. He has shown off a lot of tricks. It's all minor stuff but still exhausting to keep doing one after another. He's warm and comfortable and Scott's here. Not his first Alpha who was strong enough to defend him - but still Scott. His best friend who took care of him long before he was bitten. Who still makes Stiles feel safe.

Scott lies down beside him. The bed isn't really big enough but they make room. Stiles closes his eyes, breaths deeply and pretends the rest of his pack are just over in the other room.

"So this is something you were born with?" Scott says. Stiles turns, snuggles into Scott's chest and nods. Scott seems unsure what to do for a moment, then puts an arm around Stiles.

"So that's why Deaton never told _me_ about magic." 

"The man can't go around telling everyone. He likes you and all, but it's supposed to be a secret." Stiles sighs, content in their mini puppy pile. "I'm gonna sleep now, 'kay?"

"Sure. Nap time for wizards, I get it."

"I'mma Spark."

"Sleep, Stiles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but fuzzy. And hey, look! Stiles got to be happy for a little bit!


	16. Magic, Fear and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has some unexpected conversations.

The next few days go rather well, if Stiles says so himself. He manages school, works with Deaton, watches Peter (who switches between looking at Stiles speculatively and pretending to sleep, or possibly even sleeping for real) visits Isaac twice (who glares while Stiles babbles to fill the silence) and hasn't even seen Derek yet. Stiles might not be able to avoid his not-mate forever but he will put it off as long as possible.

Stiles thinks he has a pretty good grip on things. And then Isaac surprises him.

"Stiles gets to come too," Isaac defiantly tells his social worker, just as Stiles was about to try to convince her of that. Then, to Stiles further incredulity, he adds: "He's my best friend."

Which is just... not true. Not in this reality. They hardly knew each other before and now Isaac _hates_ him.

_What kind of game are you playing, Isaac?_

The social worker frowns, but lets Stiles join them.

The emergency foster family is a couple called Gibson. They live in a one-story brick house with a garden that is well kept and does not seem to have any magical herbs.

Maggie Gibson greets them at the door, explaining that her wife will be home in an hour.

Stiles introduces himself as Isaac's friend. She smiles at him, like _good, Isaac has friends_ and not _who is this terrible influence?_ so that's good.

Mrs Gibson and the social worker talk. They draw a few words out of Isaac and sometimes try to include Stiles, but he mostly feels like a third-wheel (fourth-wheel?) anyway.

He excuses himself once to put up a ward in the bathroom but he will need to get into the house later so he can ward the rest. 

Eventually - after Angie has come home, the social worker has left and they have all had dinner - he gets to be alone with Isaac in Isaac's new room.

It's a pretty nice room. Kids only stay here for a couple of days, usually, but the Gibsons have clearly tried to make it seem welcoming.

Isaac shuts the door and turns to glare at Stiles. The best friend-act is obviously over.

"You," he says, voice angry and cold in a way that still hurts. "Are going to show me magic."

"Oh. Um. What?"

"The magic thing. You are going to teach me."

"But werewolf," Stiles very reasonably points out. Isaac just raises an eye-brow, so he elaborates: "Derek bit you. I told you about it."

"Yes, but that was different." Isaac is talking slowly, as if Stiles can't understand him. To be fair, Stiles _is_ having a hard time processing it all.

"It's not supposed to be different! I told you about keeping things the same, it's a freaking big deal!"

"Well, figure it out. You owe me."

"Why do you even want it? You never..."

" _I'm not him!_ " Isaac snaps. "I'm not the guy from your weird future. I'm _me._ "

"I... I know. No-one is the same." Stiles laughs a little at himself. At the absurdity of his life. "Trust me, I know."

It's the wrong thing to say.

" _Trust_ me," Isaac parrots. Then he snorts. "Just get me magic, Stilinski."

Stiles stares at him. He doesn't _get it_. Why does Isaac suddenly want to be magical?

But Derek is just a story to him. Stiles was the one who showed him power this time. So even if he doesn't trust Stiles, it's his kind of power he wants.

Stiles remembers Isaac at twenty-three, reaching out for a glowing orb that was floating in the air. There had been a hunger in his eyes then. Stiles always figured it was caused by the faery who had offered the orb, spinning tales about how Isaac would gain stronger magic than anyone if he touched it.

There is some of that hunger in this Isaac now.

 _Derek promised me I would get strong,_ Isaac often complained back home. _Why is there always so many things that are stronger?_

"I can't risk it."

"Why the hell not?"

"Let's talk to Deaton. We can set up a meeting or whatever. He can explain the finer details of world-ending potentials and I'll just... I don't have to be there, if you don't want to."

"Fine. Leave."

"Can I at least ward your room first?"

"Why? Magic is _clearly too much for me._ "

"Did you not hear me mentioning the end of the world just now? The actual apocalypse. Fabric of this universe ripping apart."

"You probably already did that, didn't you? Ruining my life wasn't enough?"

Isaac glares and Stiles just... shuts down, mentally.

"I'm leaving now," he hears himself say. It sounds funny, as if it comes from far away.

Then he does. He gets out, somehow holds a short conversation with the Gibsons without knowing any of the words that come out of his own mouth and just... starts walking. The jeep is still at the hospital.

Isaac is right, anyway. Stiles probably broke the universe already.

"I am become death, the destroyer of worlds," he quotes hoarsely to the night air. A giggle escapes. Then another. Then he's cracking up, doubling over until he's lying on the sidewalk laughing so much he can't breathe. He has no idea what he is feeling.

A person walking their dog crosses the street to avoid passing him.

Stiles used to have dogs, sort of. He always did call the Betas puppies.

Isaac isn't his puppy now. None of them ever will be.

 

 

Stiles is still on the ground fifteen minutes later. He's not laughing anymore, but can't find the energy to get back up.

And then he senses it.

Someone coming, not another dog-walker, but something supernatural. He tenses, readies himself to grab for the knife inside his jacket. Should he get up or stay down, pretend to be defenceless? Instincts make the decision, because they are so much faster than thoughts and have saved him often enough.

Stiles rolls to the side, gets up on his knees and closes his fingers around the hilt of the knife when -

Derek.

He's still half a street down, partly hidden in the shadows but Stiles could recognize him anywhere.

And despite the fact that it's not his Derek, not really. Despite the fact that it could be a shapeshifter trying to trick him. Despite all reason.

Stiles relaxes. He lets go of the knife. Gets to his feet at a more relaxed pace. He can feel the smile stretching across his face as his walks toward his favorite person in the universe.

It's not Stiles' Derek. But damn it, Stiles has _missed_ him _so much_. Just seeing him feels right. Not at all like the horrible scenarios he has dreamed up.

They meet under a street-light. Stiles kind of wants to hug him. Or get up on his toes and kiss him. It doesn't even seem to matter that Derek's eyes are cold and suspicious. Derek can be as wary as his little heart desires just so long as he stays here, alive, in front of Stiles.

"Stilinksi."

"That's me." He wonders what Derek thought he would look like. He clearly recognizes his scent from Laura and the house, but this is their first meeting for him.

Again, Stiles' life is so weird. He rolls with it, though. It gave him Derek.

"What are you doing?" Derek looks angry, seconds away from shifting. He's beautiful. It wasn't that Stiles stopped noticing that his mate was hot, back home, but Derek has never looked as perfect as he does right now.

"Oh, you know, thinking. Reflecting on the state of the universe. That sort of thing." He has no idea what he's saying. Just talks so Derek will keep looking at him.

And Derek does. Look at him. With his perfect eyes and perfect... perfectness. Stiles heart is going to beat its way through his chest. It must sound strange to Derek. And before he can stop himself, Stiles starts:

"Can I...?" He cuts himself off.

"What?" Derek growls.

 _Hug you._ Stiles takes a deep breath. _Tell you how much I love you. Keep you forever._ He shakes his head at himself. _Stop being creepy, Stiles. This isn't your Derek_. But it's like his body won't get the message.

"Never mind. What's up, Derek?" Saying his mate's name hasn't given him butterflies in years, but now they are back in full force.

"You tell me. You're the one who has us keeping Peter prisoner and guarding him every second."

"Laura wanted to kill him." Stiles doesn't say a word about how much _he_ would like to kill Peter as well. Again. "The rehabilitation program was my idea. Well, Deaton's. But I helped hammer out the fine details. And Laura agreed to it all, so if you have any problems you should really talk to her. She's your Alpha."

"And who are _you_?" Derek takes a step forward and the light hits his face differently. It suddenly hits Stiles that he has never seen Derek this young. He was only a week or so older at their real first meeting, but Stiles didn't get to know him until later. Also, when they first met Laura had just been killed.

"Who are you to come here and mess up our lives, talking about the future?" Derek continues. He's ranting, really. Did young Derek used to talk this much? Stiles distinctly remembers him being sparse with his words in the beginning. At least with Stiles. And many of the words he did use were threats. There is an implied threat now, Stiles supposes, but he can't be scared of Derek.

"We shouldn't talk about that here. Top secret. We could go to the clinic? I have a key. Or wherever you and Laura sleep."

"Who. Are. You? Laura said you claim to know me. Knew me. Over there. How do we know you're telling the truth?"

Stiles considers. "Do you want me to do the say-something-only-a-trusted-friend-would-know to prove it?"

"No!" Derek bites out, then looks away as if he didn't plan to say that. Stiles takes a step closer. He can feel Derek's breath on his face. His heart speeds up again. He waits until it's calm, so Derek can hear the truth when he speaks.

"Derek. You were my best friend." Derek looks back. Meet his gaze. Stiles stares at him. "I trusted you with my life. Had good reason to, after you saved me so many times. And I saved you. You trusted me." He pauses. Considers. What can he say that gets the meaning across without being too much? "Did Laura tell you that I didn't know her?"

Derek nods stiffly.

"Right. You were my Alpha, Derek. And I was your second in command."

A second passes. Then Derek backs away from him. Stiles doesn't reach out. Doesn't try to stop him.

He wishes he could sink to his knees and swear Derek allegiance. The first time he did it he had been nervous and formal. The subsequent times were recreations in the bedroom that Stiles really shouldn't think about right now. He wants the formality back. Swear to protect and serve Derek with everything he has, to be his right hand and... and he stays on his feet. Because Derek isn't an Alpha. He will always be Stiles' leader but that doesn't mean he can insult Laura.

"Derek-" he starts, but doesn't know how to continue. He sighs again.

"That's not me. The person you talk about. That's not who I am." Just like Isaac, not half an hour later.

"I know." At least this time Stiles is calm about it. Smiles, even. "The Derek I remember was over thirty and had seen a lot of shit. Made a lot of mistakes, learned stuff. He wasn't born a great leader, but he became one. He built a pack anyone would be proud of. We never got to sit down and bask in how awesome everyone was, because like I said, shit kept happening. We were hunted a lot. But mostly we won."

Mostly they won. Mostly, everyone got out safe. The shifters healed quickly. Others were slower, got more scars, but they healed. And they celebrated. Stiles remembers cooking with Isaac, picking out movies with Lydia, calling Derek soppy pet names until the Betas pretended to throw up. He remembers holding on to his family and laughing just because they were alive.

And now, in a way, they are not alive. Stiles sacrificed everything and lost them anyway. But he's still smiling. Because Derek is here, and Stiles hasn't seen him since that last, horrible day. Hadn't truly grasped what it would be like, seeing him.

It's not his Derek. But he's alive. And that's enough.

"I need to get home to my Dad," he tells Derek. "But I'll see you around. I promise to do my best to see you as a new person. And I will protect you, like before."

He smiles.

And somehow when he steps around Derek and keeps walking home, that's okay. He doesn't have his mate in his arms, can't stare at him some more to reassure himself that Derek is real. But suddenly he doesn't need to. He feels happy and calm.

It's not that everything is right in the world. Very few things are. But Derek being alive is the most important, the only thing Stiles needs to keep going.

Maybe Derek will never love him again. The thought doesn't upset Stiles, at least not right now. Because Stiles loves him. And Stiles will keep fighting, and he will keep loving Derek, and he is not afraid. Right now, in this moment, he is not afraid. Love swallows up all the fear and fills the universe.


	17. Ravioli and Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dad gets some truth, but not the whole truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's!

It starts raining. Stiles is sopping wet when he finally gets home. He still feels weirdly serene.

“Where have you been?” Dad demands, clearly not feeling serene at all. And maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s late. 

“With Isaac,” Stiles answers. It’s the truth, just not the whole truth. Dad looks away. Because he’s a cop, and he has seen some terrible things, but also because he is a good father who will never feel comfortable about what happened to Isaac.

“How is he?”

“Better. He moved in with this couple. They were nice.” Isaac hates him and wants to learn magic. Stiles prods the thought, and he feels the guilt, but the weird Derek induced calm is still around.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence follows. Stiles still isn’t used to keeping secrets from Dad again. It’s one thing to be stepping carefully around supernatural landmines in other aspects of his life, but Dad used to be one of the people he could really rely on. Who would listen when he babbled about anything and everything and then calmly talked trough solutions. Dad didn’t know as much about magic or pack politics or anything like that as Stiles himself and some of the others, but he was good at listening. Good at helping Stiles work his own thoughts through.

“Hey, Dad?” Stiles says, impulsively. Because he wants to share something, anything. And there is at least one secret that he doesn’t have to keep. “I’m bi.”

Dad blinks. That’s fair. It was kinda out of the blue.

“As in…?”

“Bisexual. Yeah.” Biromantic too, but he doesn’t think Dad has even heard that it’s possible to be one without the other. 

“I thought you were in love with Lydia.”

“Okay, first off, I’m getting over that. Second, I can still notice if other people are attractive.”

Dad makes a face, like he doesn’t want to think about his sixteen-year-old son finding anyone attractive. At least Stiles reads it like that now, because he knows Dad accepted his sexuality the first time. (Even if he didn’t the first time Stiles said it, back when he wasn’t even sure himself.) But if Stiles didn’t know, if he felt like this was a real coming out experience, he might have reacted very differently.

Stiles decides not to bring it up. Dad only has one kid, there is no need to coach him for further how-to-react-when-your-son-comes-out experiences. Well. Unless you count the magic and werewolves and everything that’s really a lot bigger than who Stiles finds attractive – but then he knows that Dad will react badly but turn out great over time.

“Alright,” Dad says after a moment. “If you’re sure.”

“Mm. Have you eaten?”

“I had a sandwich.”

“Well I’m making something for myself. Do you want anything too?”

“Sure.”

Dad looks relieved at the change of topic. But then he apparently decides that he needs to say something more anyway.

“Is there someone… A guy, I mean.”

_Oh, yeah. There is this Alpha werewolf from the future._ Stiles shrugs.

“Well. Alright,” Dad says again. Stiles rummages through the fridge, trying to figure out what to cook. He will need to go shopping. It should be one of those things that disharmonies with his other duties but Stiles did most of the shopping back home to. They only lived on werewolf hunted game when they really needed to.

“You know I will always love you.”

“Yes, Dad.” He smiles fondly. “How about ravioli?”

“Ravioli sounds great.”

It’s almost more night than evening and Stiles already had dinner at the Gibsons’ but he still enjoys this chance to sit down and eat with his Dad. It might not be like back home, when Dad knew who and what he is. But it’s a bit like when Stiles was a teenager the first time around, before Scott was bitten. Just the two of them eating together. Stiles babbling about unimportant things from school and Dad humming along.

_I’m going to have that other coming out talk soon,_ Stiles promises silently. He smiles, chews his ravioli. Stiles loves his Dad so, so much.

In a way, Dad is the only member of the old pack (possibly excluding Scott) that he will truly have back. And it’s fine. It will be different, but Stiles will figure it out. It’s what he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay characters actually using the word bisexual! Even if cannon tends to be extremely disappointing in that matter.


	18. Packmates That Never Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of Allison Argent and a talk with Laura.

Allison Argent arrives at school. Scott clumsily offers her a pen, she smiles, it’s all very mushy. Stiles never looks directly at her, but keeps watching her out of the corner of his eye.

It feels so weird. He remembers Scott swearing to wait for Allison. Remembers him taking crazy risks and picking her over Stiles. Remembers the look on Scott’s face when she died. But he also knows that Scott moved on. That he loved other people. This Scott is overwhelmingly young, Stiles knows that, but it feels so unreal to see him with his first crush again.

At least this time he is not a werewolf.

Because last night Scott was supposed to be bitten, and he wasn’t. Peter was locked up and not an Alpha and there is no going back.

Stiles has been going on with the plan. Watching Peter, researching paradoxes, avoiding Derek, Dad and Isaac, putting in the minimum amount of attention at school and lacrosse, having a few short and awkward encounters with Laura at shift-changes… Stiles likes to tell himself it’s a good plan. But that doesn’t stop his heart from beating too hard or his palms from sweating.

Allison is here. Scott is human. It’s time for Stiles to make his play and hope the universe forgives him. 

 

 

He’s at the clinic, bent over another book when the bell rings. Deaton goes to answer and Stiles doesn’t think anything of it until he hears Allison’s voice, high and nervous. Going on about a dog and _oh shit_. Will he ever stop messing up? All this was almost a decade ago, it’s so hard to remember the details. Scott was supposed to work tonight, alone, and he was supposed to get together with Allison. Or get a date. Something about a party? Yeah, that’s right. A party at the full moon.

Deaton brings in the dog and Stiles hastily clears away the books. Can’t have Allison get suspicious. 

“Hey, uh, Allison.” He waves awkwardly at her.

“Hi.” She gives him a nervous smile before looking back at the dog. Then she looks up again. “You’re, ah, Scott’s friend?”

“Yeah, yep, that’s me.”

Deaton works at the dog. Stiles and Allison stand around. He has no idea if any of the others are as uncomfortable as he is.

He was so jealous of Allison once. She stole his best friend away and then she betrayed them all and he never quite forgave her and then… Well. Then she was dead and it was Stiles’ fault.

It wasn’t, he chastise himself. Over the years Stiles has become pretty good at knowing when he was not to blame. Derek helped with that. They helped each other. They both still had relapses when they felt like everything in the world was their fault and here, in a probably doomed timeline that actually _is_ all on Stiles… it’s easy to slip back into that.

The Kitsune was not Stiles’ fault. Nor where the things that followed. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it _wasn’t_. 

“Let’s go out in the lobby, let the Doc work,” he suggests. Allison seems reluctant to leave the dog, because she was a good person, at least in the beginning. But Stiles leads the way and she follows. She goes and sits on one of the chairs. Taps her foot like she can’t bear to be still. Stiles knows the feeling. He heaves himself up on the counter, swings his legs over to face her and dangles them back and forth.

“Scott’s been wanting to invite you to this party,” he improvises.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s kind of gone on you.”

Stiles has no idea if he’s doing the right thing here. But sometimes you have to leap without looking, like he did when he turned to time travel in the first place. 

“Really?” she repeats, voice a bit higher. She’s blushing. So innocent. Stiles kind of wants to pinch her cheeks.

The first time Stiles claimed the label of pack, he meant him, Scott and Allison. They were never a real pack, and that’s not just because there was only one werewolf and no real Alpha. Stiles never liked Allison. Never really knew her. He had this picture of her in his head that didn’t necessarily have a lot in common with what she was really like. He wonders how she used to picture him. What she thinks of him now.

“You should ask him out instead,” he suggests. “You know, if you’re interested. You would probably stumble over your words less than he would.”

Scott was his first Alpha, just not when Allison was around, but he’s not above ribbing the guy a little.

Allison looks at him, as if trying to figure out if he’s serious. Then she nods, slowly, still blushing.

“Maybe I will.”

They smile at each other. Hopefully her budding relationship with Scott won’t be destroyed by the tragic – or not so tragic – death of her aunt Kate. 

 

 

“And that’s why I think you should bite Isaac,” Stiles finishes and steps off the metaphorical soap box.

Laura raises her eyebrows at him. He keeps his determined expression firmly in place.

“The situation is different now.”

“Which is exactly why we should work on making it more similar.” He and Deaton have filled her in a bit on the dangers of paradoxes. 

“He’s in the foster system now. We can’t have a newly turned werewolf there. If I’m going to do it at all we wait until he’s eighteen.”

“But…”

“That way he might even have time to finish the trial first, depending on how much time that takes.”

“Laura.” Stiles takes a slow breath. “I’m worried about the world here.”

She hesitates for just a second.

“If it seems like things are going wrong, I’ll bite him. Otherwise we wait. I’ll still do it later, but waiting is better. You and Deaton are trying to work big plans, but I have to look out for my pack. For my brother and any new members. If I’m going to bite someone I’ll do it right.”

“That’s, yes, that’s good. But again, _the world_. Derek and Isaac live in it. If it goes it’s taking them with it.”

He’s trying not get angry. He knows Laura isn’t stupid, that she’s acting on instinct. That she’s a natural Alpha, in a way that Derek wasn’t. Not the ‘true Alpha’ thing Scott had, but something she has been aware of all her life. Instincts that she has been trained to follow, not suppress. Because ignoring outsider’s problems to focus on the pack was a good trait in Alphas, most of the time. Stiles would know, he puts his pack above everything else too. But it’s hard to make those instincts understand indirect dangers, and the whole concept of the _world_ dying is too big to really grasp either way. 

So yes, Stiles is trying not to get angry. But this is Derek and Isaac. He just wants to protect them and Laura isn’t _helping_.

If he’s being totally honest, his own instincts don’t see her as the leader of the pack. They see her as a threat to it.

“I’ll think about it,” Laura allows. Stiles clenches his teeth. He figures that’s the best he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a bit worried about how Laura comes across here. She really isn’t stupid. The whole “end of the world = Derek and Isaac die too” is rather obvious, and she does get that, but she doesn’t _get it_ because she hasn’t had the time to get used to the end of the world being a thing that might happen. And she’s very invested in protecting Derek and being the best Alpha she can be, for obvious reasons, which often involve her falling back on instincts and tradition. 
> 
> The title of this chapter refer to Allison – technically part of Stiles’ first pack but not really – and Laura, whom he never knew.
> 
> Edit to add: Stiles is being horribly unfair to Laura. I will adress it later.


	19. Dream a Little Dream of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is dreaming and we get a glimpse of the future he left behind.

_Stiles knows that he is dreaming. He is holding Derek’s hand and the pack – his_ real _pack – is smiling around him. Lydia has a bandage around her head, a new scar across her cheek and dirty clothes. She still pulls of a sort of effortless beauty._

_She leans over, smiling, and punches him lightly in the arm for something he said. He laughs and leans away from her and into Derek. His mate, strong and warm at his side. Derek who loves him, who is his._

_Dad enters the room, half hidden behind the tower of pizza boxes he’s carrying. Everyone cheers._

_Stiles knows that it’s all a dream. But he relaxes into it anyway. Holds on, as long as he can._

_“I love you,” he whispers into Derek’s ear, as if two thirds of the pack couldn’t hear him. Derek doesn’t say the words back, but he doesn’t need to. He kisses Stiles lightly and turns to accept a slice of pizza. Stiles watches his profile, feeling warm and safe._

_“Peperoni or Hawaiian, Stiles?” Claire asks._

_“Either. Both.”_

_He doesn’t care what happens, he just wants to be here with his family._

_Claire has her hair in a fancy braid, like she often did. It had seemed ridiculous to Stiles, when they were on the run from various monsters or hunters such a large portion of their lives. But he supposes it was a thing for her and her sister. Suzie would braid Claire hair like she belonged on the cover of a wedding magazine and gossip about the rest of the pack and pretend that everything was normal. Sometimes she did Lydia’s hair too. She offered to do Malia’s before she died, but she was never interested._

_Isaac sits next to her, shoving pizza in his mouth like there is no tomorrow. He has grease all over his chin and he doesn’t care. Doesn’t worry about what the pack might think of him, because he knows he is loved. Stiles could stare at him forever._ This _is his Isaac. The only one besides Scott Stiles has ever thought of as a brother. Not the stranger in the past who glares at him all the time. Whose anger Stiles deserves._

_Dad and Suzie are debating whether a famous hockey player is some kind of supernatural creature. On the one hand his skills are suspiciously impressive – on the other humans can do some pretty amazing things. Dad is firmly on Team Human. He usually is. In the early days he wanted to avoid thinking about supernatural things. By now he’s far past that. Stiles figures he’s mostly asserting that him, Stiles and the other humans in the pack are useful. And Stiles loves him for it._

_Arkady doesn’t talk as much as the others. He’s the newest member of the pack and in the beginning, he wasn’t as ingrained a part of the gang, but now he’s been one of them for five months. He’s still the silent type, but not out of shyness. When he does speak, it is usually thoughtful and he is good at mediating minor in-pack fighting. He is a bear, the only non-wolf shifter they have at the moment. Had. Back home._

_Stiles figures Boyd might have grown up to be like Arkady, if he had had the chance._

_He’d like to hope he will get that chance now. That Boyd and Arkady will meet one day and get along. But he feels like it’s too late. That his crazy attempts to save the world from paradoxes will never work._

_He puts down his own pizza and bites back tears. Hates that he can’t be happy for more than a few minutes, even in this idealized dream. Maybe he should just wake up. This isn’t real, he should focus on the things that are._

_“Stiles?”_

_Then again. He turns and meets Derek’s gaze._

_He can have this, in dreams._

_“Yeah, Derek. I’m here.”_

_And suddenly it’s just the two of them. They’re in Stiles old room in Beacon Hills, but still their real ages. Derek smiles and kisses him. They fall back on the bed together. Stiles never wants to let him go._

_“You can do it, Stiles,” Derek whispers in his ears. “You can save them.”_

_He pulls out of Derek’s grasp._

_“No. I really can’t.”_

_Derek looks at him, silent. Then he nods._

_“Okay.”_

_“Okay?”_

_“If you can’t save them, don’t.”_

_“I can’t just- I need to-“_

_“Sometimes there are things we can’t do.”_

_“This dream bullshit isn’t even subtle, now.”_

_Derek looks hurt, like pointing out he is just a part of Stiles’ subconscious upsets him. Stiles instantly want to take the words back._

_“I miss you,” he blurts out._

_“I know.”_

_They lay on the bed, looking at each other. The bed the real Stiles is sleeping in, where he’ll have to wake up at some point. Then Derek growls, eyes flashing red, and leans in to kiss him again. Stiles feels alive in a way he hasn’t since traveling in time._

_He clings to his mate, hungry and in love. Just for a moment, he allows himself to forget that this isn’t real. It’s so very easy, when it feels more real than anything._

_“I’m coming home,” he promises nonsensically. “I’m coming home and I’m staying. I’m never leaving you again.”_

_“I’m never letting you,” Derek growls into his collarbone and it’s perfect. It’s everything Stiles needs, everything he could ever want._

_This is where Stiles belong. This, here, with Derek. He is never letting go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The future Hale pack has had different members at different times, as people joined, left or died. At this point it consists of Derek, Stiles, Lydia, Isaac, Stiles’ father and three OCs. Don’t worry, this fic will not turn into an OC party. The reason they are there at all is because of the high risk means not all members can remain the same.


	20. Once an Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tense confrontations in parking lots featuring Stiles Stilinski and Chris Argent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I am not dead.

Stiles is sitting in the parking lot utside the supermarket. He's had cup of coffee, which makes his leg jitter more than normally, but gets his brain to focus. He needs to be focused for this. Play his part, as one of the most risky steps of the plan takes form.

Chris Argent.

They've tried to come up with other ways of getting Kate to come here, to lure her into a trap without also bringing Gerard. But reading Chris into some of the truth is still the best they've got.  
At least they're leaving Victoria out of it. Laura is watching her - and reports that she is creepily stalking Allison and Scott on their date. Not that Laura worded it quite like that. And technically Stiles is stalking Chris... but Chris is a hunter and an adult and has done way creepier things, so he can just deal.

And there he is. Walking out of the store. He is carrying two bags in one hand, which is pretty smart. Stiles hates not having at least one hand free too. But right now he wishes Chris' hands were both busy. Busy with not drawing a weapon or strangling Stiles. Oh well.

Stiles takes a deep breath to psyche himself up and gets out of the car. Crosses towards Chris.

"Hey, Argent." He keeps his voice calm and just loud enough to be heard. Has both hands visible and empty. Chris freezes and turns to look at him, but manages a pretty convincing smile.

"Hello. I don't think we've met. Are you one of Allison's friends?" It's so weird to see him use “charm the muggle”–tactics on Stiles.

Stiles doesn't confirm or deny being Allison's friend because honestly, he has no idea. Instead he says, because they've decided to be blunt:

"This is more of a supernatural issue."

Chris' free hand twitches. He walks quickly until he's all up in Stiles' face. Stiles doesn't back down, but he really hates doing this without any werewolf backup. Or Lydia. He always felt better with Lydia at his side.

"What. Kind. Of. Issue?" Chris hisses.

"I have knowledge of the future. I know how Allison dies-" he's talking very quickly "-and I want to change it. But I need your help to do it."

Chris stares at him, like he could read the truth with his eyes to compensate for his inability to hear heartbeats.

"What proof do you have of these... statements?" Chris' nostrils are flaring. Stiles feels the weight of his knife in his hoodie pocket. He smiles. 

”I can’t tell you about the future. At least not yet, and not here. So let me remind you of the past instead.”

This is a story Chris told once, when he was very drunk. It was Kate’s birthday and she was dead. So were his daughter, wife and father. He only had the pack left. His half allies that he blamed for his family’s death and yet protected because Allison would have wanted him to. He liked Isaac, at least. Stiles thinks Chris might have hated the rest of them. It was hard to tell, with him.

”When your sister Kate was thirteen years old your father brought her a chicken and told her to kill it. He let her pick her weapon and she chose her bare hands. You thought she had been trying to impress him and went to comfort her afterwards. But she laughed at you and accused you of being a coward and a bad Argent.” 

When Stiles heard the story, he had also been drunk and responded by asking which weapon Chris had killed his own chicken with. Chris had glared a little to the left of Stiles’ face. That was the end of story time and the last time they drank together.

Now-Chris’ face is very sober and closed off.

”How do you know my sister?”

”Mostly as the one who burned the Hale pack alive” Stiles snaps. He can sympathize with Chris loving his relatives even though they’re horrible, but it’s Kate. She might have been other things, but raping Derek and murdering children will always overshadow that. 

Chris goes quiet. He doesn’t question the accusation. Stiles wonders if he already knew.

”Listen” Stiles says. ”I’m going to ask a lot of you - really a lot - and I can’t give you much information. But in the future I’m trying to change, Allison dies before she gets a chance to turn eighteen.”

And there is an old guilt in that. Stiles has spent a lot of time learning how to not blame himself for the Kitsune, for Allison’s death, for everything that happened then. He can’t let that guilt bubble up again, can’t risk Chris sensing it.

They stare at each other. Chris is still holding his grocery bags, which feels vaguely surreal.

”What kind of things would you be asking for?”

Stiles heart skips a beat. This is it. He goes back to the kind of voice he would use with an Alpha at a formal meeting. Serious. Slower and more quiet than normal. Sure.

”The short version is I need you to call Kate and convince her to come down here. Without alerting her to anything being wrong. Without telling anyone. And then step back and let us confront her.”

”Us as in the Hale pack.”

”Yes.”

”You're going to kill her.”

”Yes.” No hesitation, no blinking.

”You want me to lure my own sister to her death.”

”I want you to choose Allison over Kate.”

And this was why Stiles picked the chicken story. To remind Chris that Kate isn’t innocent. That she enjoyed killing even when she was just thirteen, and that part of him has always known it.

Stiles want to keep talking. To say he knows Chris loves Allison more than anything in the world. But he doesn’t need to say it. He will just seem more manipulative if he does.

”When do I need to make a decision?” 

Stiles keeps the smile internal. They still have a long way to go, but it’s still pretty much a best case scenario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter. I hate it so much. And it’s not even because it’s bad in itself, but because I had so much trouble with it. I made a mistake at the planning stage and had to change things but I couldn’t change them too much without fucking up later chapters. It was all complicated and hard and I hated it. So... that’s why it has taken me almost a year to write this one stupid part. And I’m not super happy with the text either but I needed to actually publish something. Hopefully it will be somewhat easier from here on out and I haven’t lost all my readers.


End file.
